Proper Etiquette
by BreathOfNocte
Summary: After the Labyrinth, Sarah returns home and remembers why she lived in her little fantasy world for so long - Real Life Sucks. Who would want to live up here when you could really LIVE down there? Oneshot that's actually a Fiveshot. REVAMPED and COMPLETE.
1. Halloween, 1986

**Disclaimer : **What? You didn't know I owned Labyrinth? Pshaw. Silly mortals.

**Jareth** : *Intimidatingly doubtful eyebrow arch*

**Moi: **Well. Kinda. Not really.

Alright, fine, I don't own anything. There, happy?

**Jareth**: Quite.

* * *

****

Proper Etiquette

**Halloween, 1986**

"Sarah, it's been three months! Would you _please_ tell me _something?_" Karen begged from the other side of my bedroom door. I rolled my eyes.

"I've got three boyfriends and they're taking up a lot of time. Not easy juggling dates, you know. In fact, I'm due in the backseat of John Number One's car in seven minutes for a brief struggle and a make-out sesh, so I kind of have to go," I said, with a perfectly straight face, as I opened the door and brushed past her. She huffed and followed me down the stairs.

"Sorry, I guess I should have clarified that I meant something _other_ than a smart-assed reply," she snapped, so close on my heels I could smell her designer perfume outrunning me.

"What, you don't think I could have three boyfriends?" I demanded in mock offense, snatching my coat out of the closet. She crossed her arms and tapped a stylishly-heeled foot impatiently, leveling an impressively intimidating Mother-Glare at me. I gave her an equally well-practiced I'm-A-Teenager, Therefore-Immune-To-Your-Mother-Glare look of acute blasé, and slipped my coat on, reaching for my favorite scarf.

"I thought you _wanted_ me to go out and do stuff," I reminded her, searching my pockets for the matching gloves and hat.

"I want you to have _friends_, not to disappear for hours on end every day and never tell me what you're doing," she said, dropping her arms in exasperation. A strand of her artfully-gelled hair fell out of place. She carefully tucked it back.

It seemed Dad had noticed that I was around a lot less often and had questioned Karen about it, making her feel inadequate for not knowing, again. I almost felt a little bad for her, but it was still fantastically annoying.

I stopped and sighed, folding my scarf over my arm and turning to face her.

"Alright, look. I'm not running around defacing public property, I'm not doing drugs, I'm not really juggling three boys and their backseat appointments, and I'm not contemplating the vicious, bloody murder of any old ladies. I'm just… trying to find something that I only just realized I'm missing. It's not harmful to anyone, and I don't think you'd really understand, so it would be easier on the both of us if we just left each other well enough alone. Tell Dad I'm volunteering at the library or something," I said, and tugged my gloves and hat on. "I'll be home by seven like I promised, so you two can go to your Halloween party."

Karen looked at me critically for a moment, before sighing softly to herself and nodding.

"Very well. Don't be late," she consented, and reached forward to help me wrap my scarf. She glanced at me, an odd, vaguely confused look in her eyes. "You've changed a lot, you know. Your father's noticed it, but he doesn't realize why it bothers him. I think I understand, though," she said.

I gave her a small smile. "I hope you don't," I said sincerely, in a tone completely absent of malice or challenge, and turned and left, closing the door securely behind me.

Karen was right, I had changed.

I was fairly certain she had no idea why, however. For her sake, I hoped not, anyways.

Four months ago, I had an interesting and enlightening encounter with the haughty, dangerous (and wickedly sexy, though I was definitely not going to admit that to myself), ruler of a kingdom of goblins.

It hadn't ended so well.

After destroying the capital city and similarly-sized ego of the local monarch, I had returned to my inadequate little life Aboveground - back to a father who was reminded of the wife who left him every time he looked at me, back to a stepmother who was reminded that she was her husband's second choice every time I was mentioned, back to a baby brother who I couldn't help but irrationally blame for possessing the attention I had previously held. It wasn't that I didn't love them, but it was the painful sort of love, not the kind I read about in my fairytales; and the stony, unyielding drabness of reality was soul-sucking and cold after such a heavy dose of my fantasies.

The real world and I had never been on good terms, anyhow.

For a few weeks, I had pretended nothing was wrong. Unfortunately, I was a lot worse at pretending than any self-respecting actress should be, and about a month after my return, I decided to face the fact that I was miserable and _do_ something about it, instead of just covering it up with a really crappy concealer.

So, I hunted for magic.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the Hoodoo shop, I puffed out a breath of relief and smiled.

This was my favorite place.

It was a little hole-in-the-wall, cramped with hanging baskets and tall shelves, every inch of space cluttered with books and amulets and spices and figurines, with cobwebs and bone dust filling in the nooks and crannies. It smelled vaguely of earth and cinnamon, with the sharp ozone scent I had come to recognize as magic.

Goblin magic, in particular.

A dark haired face poked out from the back room, alerted to my arrival by the tinkling string of seashells above the door.

"_Ch__è__re_ Sarah," said the face's owner, a golden skinned, sliver-tongued, Creole boy three years my senior, smiling as he recognized me. I suspected he tolerated me mostly because his mother owned the shop and had taken a liking to me.

She said I smelled like magic.

"Afternoon, Beau," I nodded, slowly unwinding my scarf and closing my eyes briefly. If I let my mind wander, I could almost pretend I wasn't here, in a tiny shop straddling the border of the bad side of town, but rather was standing before a stretch of never-ending wall, ensconced in vines and infested with fairies, with large, ornate doors creaking open to admit me, daring me inside…

"Dinn't think you'd be showin, todey. Thought you was smarter than be walkin all dis way in thet bone-chillin cold, ou'side," he chastised, and I listened to the languid, rounded cadence of his speech with pleasure. He had a low, smooth, baritone voice, and in the heavy air of the shop, I could feel the vibrations of it on my skin as much as hear it. It was like a mug of warm, honeyed milk after coming in from a snowstorm.

I grinned at him, showing my teeth. "Never said I was smart, did I?" I teased. He gave me a small smile and shook his head, stretching in a feline manner and exposing a tempting little slice of a smooth, slightly-muscled stomach above his low-slung jeans. I noticed, without any particular interest. He was attractive, I supposed, and comfortable, familiar, and perfectly safe.

Boring, almost.

I fiddled with a complicated little amulet on the counter nearest me, and tried not to think about why the attractive, familiar, safe boy before me wouldn't spark my interest even if he danced around in a sequined gold thong.

Well. Actually, he might spark my interest then. A little.

"Is _Maman_ Delia around?" I asked, trying not to blush at that mental image. My efforts weren't entirely successful.

I thought I caught a little glimpse of a smirk as Beau slid into the chair behind the register counter, propping his feet up, and decided to pretend I hadn't. The idea of him guessing the direction of that stray thought was mortifying.

"Shez in 'de back, tradin. Be out soon, though, iffnn you wanna stick aroun," he said, and I settled down on the edge of the counter, folding one of my legs up under me, leaning forward eagerly.

"Trading? Who with? Someone new?" I asked, knowing I was probably being a little annoying, but that he wouldn't mind. Beau was used to me by now.

He chuckled at me and folded his arms behind his head casually, the picture of nonchalance. "Yeh, some'un new. Odd fellah, him, kina stiff-like," he mused, and I just barely saw the sideways glance he threw me. My heartbeat sped up.

"What do you mean, stiff? Like, arrogant? Obviously used to being in charge? Could crush your skull with a crystal ball if he could be bothered to care that much?" I demanded, palms flat on the table as I hovered excitedly. Beau outright laughed at me, but I couldn't quite bring myself to be embarrassed.

"Dun know 'bout dem crystals, but the res'of it holds up," he agreed, and I couldn't decide if I was short of breath from fear or desperate hopefulness.

I glanced apprehensively at the back room, bending down to whisper conspiratorially at Beau. "What does he look like? Whipcord lean? Poofy blonde hair? Ridiculously tight pants?"

My informant's eyes glittered with obvious amusement. "Can't say I was inpectin' his britches, but yeh, sounds 'bout right."

My gaze bored into the curtain that led to the back room, as though I could see the object of my curiosity if I but concentrated hard enough. I wondered distractedly if Jareth could see through walls. Did he know I was here?

The spaces in my vertebrae filled with ice.

What would Jareth do, if we met again?

I found it hard to imagine him being glad to see me. After all, I had beaten him, hadn't I? The villains usually didn't become buddies with the heroines after having their evil egos stomped all over. I mean, if _I_ were in his position (not that I ever would be, because stealing helpless babies is a really horrible past time, but just hypothetically), I certainly would _not_ be interested in seeing the person who had just totally _trampled _me at my own game. In fact, I would probably be extremely tempted to lock them in an oubliette for a millennia or so with a couple of angry crabs. Or lobsters, maybe - they had bigger claws.

I scrambled off the counter, fumbling in my pockets for my gloves and hat, and stumbled toward the door on suddenly wobbly legs.

"_Cheri_?" Beau called, confused, and I glanced at the curtain, suddenly absolutely _positive _that Jareth was going to sense my presence any second now and come after me, all fury and magic and danger -

"I have to go," I said quickly, and struggled with the door for a moment before I remembered I had to _pull_ not _push_ - were those footsteps I heard?-

I wrenched hard at the door, wondering how far away I could get before he caught up with me - did I dare go home? -

And felt it being obstructed by the large, golden-skinned hands holding it to the doorframe. I whipped my head around, panicking, and fixed Beau with a terrified stare. I was sure I looked like a deer in the proverbial headlights, but couldn't work up the vanity or pride to care.

"Beau, let me out!" I hissed. He was close, way too close, and his arms barred any easy escape. I felt my already shallow breathing quicken even more.

"Sarah, what d'you think you're doin?" he demanded, not moving an inch. "You come round here ev'ry dey, lookin for thet magic you tasted, an now it's here, you gonna run?"

I shook my head frantically. "No, Beau, you don't understand, he'll be _furious_ if he sees me, please, I _can't_ stay-"

"_Cher_, what you been needin for dese las' three months is righ' back dere, an if you gon' run an hide from it, den you don' deserve it," he said, his voice low and sharp, and I jerked like he'd slapped me.

He was right, though.

I'd been craving any sort of magic, not only haunting this shop but the Wicca store two blocks over, and the occult shop down the street, and the mythology professors at the college, and anyone I met who had _that_ look in their eyes - anything at all that bore even the faintest whisper of what this world was so utterly lacking, I had devoured.

And now, the embodiment of it all was right in the next room, and I was going to flee like the worst sort of coward imaginable, and I'd probably lose it forever.

I felt my breathing slow, and I looked back up at Beau. He watched my face for a moment, then nodded to me with approval in his dark eyes.

"Dis is more like my _Cher_ Sarah," he said quietly, and removed his hands from the door, crossing them over his chest. "For a minute, dere, I though' that fire wen out. But I see it now," he said, tapping two fingers over his heart. "Still hungry an stupid," he smirked.

I grinned. "I feel like I ought to be offended by that," I said, and ambled back over to my previous spot on the counter, reclaiming my seat and comfortably folding a leg back under me, as Beau returned to reclining in his chair.

I wasn't going to show Jareth I was even the least little bit afraid of him. Even if I _did_ want to run, throw myself down the nearest hole, and pull it in after me. Without the knowledge that Toby needed me, was depending on me to save him, would be the one to suffer if I failed, the idea of going toe-to-toe with an angry king was positively bone-chilling.

I wondered vaguely how Hoggle had ever found the courage to stand up to him.

It was a good thing it didn't take long for _Maman_ Delia to conclude her business, because I was starting to get antsy again when she finally burst in the room, with her colorful wrap-dress and head-scarf and various beaded necklaces clinking merrily.

"I been thought I smell'd you in here, _Ma Cheri_," she boomed, her voice strong and warm. She immediately came over and wrapped me up in a hug, kissing my cheek.

"Well, I totally showered today," I joked, and she smiled at me.

"_Ma fille_, you don never gonna be rid of thet smell. I'd know you from a mile away," she said, and I laughed.

"Geez, you sure know how to flatter a girl," I teased, and felt my grin falter as a tall, blonde figure emerged from behind the curtain.

It wasn't Jareth.

A veritable legion of conflicting emotions assaulted me, relief and chagrin at the forefront. It was a little cocky of me to _really_ think that The Goblin King would actually be hovering around Aboveground, dealing with shopkeepers, in my hometown, wasn't it? In retrospect, it was probably pretty dumb of me to have gotten all worked up like that. It was just some other blonde guy.

However, The Other Blonde Guy was definitely _not_ human.

Cool, slate grey eyes regarded me with mild amusement, his nostrils flaring, and I wondered if he could smell the magic on me, too. I studied his features. They were less severe, though still defined, and though his hair was rather ruffled, it was quite a bit shorter and tamer than Jareth's. Also, his pants were of a more reasonable cut. I had no idea what size his package was.

"So, you're Her, are you?" he said, disrupting my ponderings on his level of endowment in comparison to a certain monarch's. I tried _really_ hard not to blush.

"Depends on which 'her' you're talking about," I replied evenly, far less jittery now that I knew I wasn't in danger of a stray crystal being flung with malicious intent at my skull.

The Other Blonde Guy smirked. "Oh, yes. Definitely Her." He gave me a once over, and my skin prickled slightly. "I can see him on you." His lips twitched in dry amusement, and he reached out, taking my wrist and turning it over. "He left marks all over you, didn't he?" he murmured, inspecting my palm - the palm Jareth had held, when we danced.

I bristled. His detached tone irked me, like he was telling a particularly smart cow that it had been branded.

"Hmm. I don't recall leaving any marks on him. How careless," I said, and met his eyes with a cold, steely confidence. "Perhaps you could deliver a message for me?" I said with a smile to match my sharp look, and flicked my long, manicured fingernails in a catlike gesture.

His eyes clouded for a moment, and I thought with a little jolt that I may have gone just a step too far. I was contemplating a quick retreat when he suddenly smiled, and I was sure the feisty little grin I'd given him looked positively cuddly next to his.

"I'm afraid I'll have to pass, kitten. I fear your impression would be slightly more… permanent. I'll leave it for you to take care of when next you meet," he said, clearly finding me quite entertaining. He released me, standing up and cocking his head, as though I might make more sense from a different angle. "I see why, now," he said under his breath, and I leaned forward, unsure I'd heard him right. He tilted his head back and winked at me.

"Perhaps we will meet again, kitten," he said, and bowed, as though we were in some sort of royal court, then turned back to _Maman _Delia. I frowned at him, a rather unpleasantly sharp remark on my tongue, but I felt Beau pinch my side discreetly. I glanced at him, a little surprised to find him tensed and standing behind me, an arm braced defensively on either side of me. He briefly looked down at me and almost imperceptibly shook his head. I frowned at him, too. Like I really needed _Beau _to protect me from some fairy jerk?

_Maman_ Delia escorted The Other Blonde Guy out, and came back to Beau and me, fire sparking in her eyes.

"Girl, are you dam stupid?" she demanded, and I started, leaning back a little into Beau. He didn't back away from me, but he didn't keep his arms defensively braced, either.

"What?"

"Thet was not a man, jus' come through here. Thet was a snake wrapped up ina nice face, an you done _fenced_ wiv'em. Don' you know a threat wen it's gotta knife at your neck?" she growled, and I blinked.

"He was nothing, compared to Jareth," I said, shrugging. It was _Maman_ Delia's turn to blink. I glanced up at Beau when he laughed behind me.

"Shez gotta point, _Maman_," he chuckled. "What threat's a snake, wen you done kill't the lion?"

_Maman_ Delia glowered at him for a moment, before stalking off to the back room again, muttering about how a snake can kill you just as dead as a lion, without the mess. I leaned around, trying to see her, and propped an elbow on my knee, resting my head in my hand.

"Do you think she'll stay mad at me?" I asked Beau quietly as he went back to his chair. He snorted.

"You are her _ange petit_, _Chère._ She ain'ever mad at you," he said, and I cast him a doubtful glance. He smirked and nodded at the back room, where _Maman_ Delia was still rummaging around, grumbling darkly in what sounded like very angry French. A loud crash resounded through the shop, followed by even angrier French.

I cocked an eyebrow at him. "Was that supposed to make me feel better?

He laughed. "You'll see. Jus' wait."

I sighed and brought my other leg up, sitting Indian style, and fiddling with an intricate looking knot I plucked from a basket. I had almost traced the entire length of it, occasionally wincing when something noisy happened in the back room, when Beau leaned forward, looking at me oddly.

"So, dis Jareth," he said, and my stomach fluttered a little. I tried not to think about him too often - it seemed like daring him to come toss another death-contraption at me or something - and therefore had only outlined my trip through the Labyrinth in sketchy detail. I suspected _Maman_ Delia knew more than I had told her, but Beau only knew vaguely of Jareth. I had mostly talked to him about my friends and the goblins. I'd hoped Beau wouldn't get curious about him.

I arched an eyebrow in acknowledgement, not moving my gaze from the knot in my hands.

"He mus'a been real wickid, if jus' maybe meetin'em be gettin you all flighty like thet," he said, and I blushed a little.

"He was… pretty terrifying," I consented, remembering what he had told me, as his castle disintegrated around us. _You cowered before me; I was frightening._ "He threw a lot of dangers and hardships my way. It was scary, sometimes."

I saw Beau cock his head, out of the corner of my eye. "But… you don' hate'em," he said, and I whipped my head up.

"He stole my brother," I said sharply. "Of course I hate him. He would have turned Toby into a goblin. We were enemies."

Beau gave me a steady look. "Yeh. You _was_ enemies."

I blinked, and narrowed my eyes. "We _are_ enemies. I beat him, but he's evil. He'd probably suspend me over a pond of starving leeches as soon as look at me," I said, and went back to my knot, deciding that the unpleasant feeling in my stomach was solely related to the fact that I had skipped lunch.

Beau said nothing, leaning back in his chair again and popping his feet up next to me. I refused to look and see what expression he was wearing.

_Maman_ Delia stormed out from the back room, clutching a small bag tied to a string necklace in her hand, and gave me a hard look.

"You is gonna wear dis from now on, and keep thet fool tongue in your fool hed," she told me, draping the bag around my neck and tucking it under my sweater. I nodded meekly. She gave me a satisfied nod before turning to Beau. "An you is gonna take her home, an make sure don' no snakes creep up'un her while shez busy killin' lions," she said firmly, to which he grinned and nodded as well. She gave me a fierce hug and promptly stomped back off behind the curtain, presumably to go make some more loud crashes and swear in angry French.

Beau grinned fondly in her direction, hauling himself up and donning his coat.

"C'mon, _Cheri_, bes' be gone home 'fore the spiders ketch wind and join the fun," he teased, and I gave him a sarcastic smile as I wrapped my scarf securely around my neck. Looked like I'd be home early, for once - Karen would be ecstatic.

* * *

I rolled my eyes at the tall blonde king standing uncertainly before me, and made a 'shoo'-ing gesture at him.

"Go, already! You're gonna be late," I told him, and looked pointedly at his queen, standing several feet behind him, impatiently consulting her watch.

Dad adjusted his plastic crown, and cast one last glance at his children, hovering by the candy bowl near the door, before sighing and donning his cape.

"We're still going to have a talk about this when I get home," he said sternly, and Karen sighed.

"Robert, she has a boyfriend, he walked her home, and then he left. It's not the end of the world. However, if I am late to this party, it is going to be the end of _someone's_ world. One guess who's," she threatened, and Dad smiled indulgently at her. I decided not to bother fixing her ideas.

"Sorry, darling. Let's go," he relented, and leaned over to kiss Toby and I on the forehead, careful not to smudge my face paint. "Be safe, you two," he warned. I forced a smile and nodded like a good daughter.

"Happy Halloween. Have fun," I replied, and closed the door behind them. Toby gurgled in my arms, and leaned toward the candy, waving his hands. I grinned at him.

"Alright, Tobes. But only a couple. Don't want you getting sick," I said, and unwrapped a lollipop for him. He waved it around happily before sucking on it as though it were the most delicious thing he'd ever eaten. Though, judging by the faces he makes when Karen feeds him her special homemade baby food, it very well may be.

I walked him back up to my room and set him on the floor, laying my bear Lancelot next to him, and sat down at my vanity.

"Guys, I need you," I said, and but a few seconds later, there was a dwarf, a knight, and a yeti crowded onto my bed.

"Baga!" Toby said excitedly around his lollipop, clapping his hands. Hoggle rolled his eyes.

"For the last time, it's _Hoggle_," he snapped. Toby just giggled and drooled a little.

"Sawah scary," Ludo commented, and I grinned at him, baring a set of cheap plastic fangs.

"I'm a vampire, tonight," I told him, and cackled evilly as I swooped down, snatching Toby up and whirling him around as he shrieked in delight. "And this is my victim!"

"Worry not, Young Master, I shall champion you! Upon my honor, your blood shall not be spilt this night!" Didymus cried, leaping to my brother's defense, waving his sword about impressively.

"Your petty weapons are no match for me, Sir Knight! Abandon your hopeless quest, before I smite you!" I crowed, stalking around him in the creepiest fashion I could manage with a drooling baby on my hip.

"Never! Have at thee!" he declared, and sprung at me with a battle cry. I defended myself with a hastily grabbed coat hanger, while Hoggle and Ludo cheered and catcalled from the sidelines.

Dad and Karen usually went out on the weekends, because Karen was a social butterfly and Dad was a hopeless pushover, and I was generally left to baby sit. I didn't mind anymore, however; babysitting was really just an excuse to have my friends over. We would romp around and play until Toby got tired, and after we put him to bed we usually played a few games of Scrabble and chatted. They would leave when the Old Folks came home, with a promise to always be there whenever I needed them as they disappeared back through my mirror, and I would sit on my bed and wave.

Not tonight, though.

They had no idea what I was planning, and I didn't let anything on while we played. I wasn't sure my Ingenious Plan would work, and I wanted to surprise them with my resourcefulness and knowledge if it did. I was pretty sure it would. After all, there was no reason for it not to. Not that I could see, anyways. And I had done it before, hadn't I? Sure, it had been with the help of the Goblin King, but still… it should totally work.

I hoped.

It was quarter to midnight when my parents finally came home, and after pleading exhaustion to my father's attempts at discussing Beau's escort earlier today, I retreated back to my room to say goodbye to my friends.

"Happy Halloween, Sarah! And remember, should you _need_ us…" Hoggle said as he faded, the last to leave, and I smiled at him.

"I'll call," I said, and waited until the last possible instant to implement my Ingenious Plan.

Just as my little dwarf was only barely visible, I flung the root-and-bone dust I had gotten from _Maman_ Delia's shop over us, and latched onto his now tangible arm. There was a sudden suffocating sensation, like being pushed through a wall of thin rubber that molded around you, and then a sharp sting as I felt it part, and then I was standing in a tiny hut holding onto a very irritated dwarf.

"You stupid girl!" Hoggle all but shouted, wrenching his arm out of my grasp and taking a swing at me. I laughed and easily avoided it, holding him at bay with one of my long arms braced on his forehead.

"It worked! Holy cow, it totally worked!" I giggled, and briefly let go of him to spin in place. My black cape billowed about me, and I raced outside, clutching onto the ends as I danced and twirled, grinning like a madwoman, as I felt the magic and impish nature of the Labyrinth seeping back into me.

_This_ was where I belonged.

"Sarah, you don't _belong_ here!" Hoggle hissed at me as I ran past him, and I laughed at him.

"You have no idea how wrong you are, friend!" I replied, giddier than I had ever felt. I stopped, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. The faint, underlying odor of ozone at _Maman_ Delia's shop was overwhelming here - it permeated everything, and I was suddenly sure that no matter how many showers I took, she was right, I would _never_ be rid of this smell -

"No, _you're_ wrong!" he growled, stomping over to me. I rolled my eyes.

"Take a chill pill, Hoggle. I'm not staying permanently. I just wanted to come visit for a couple of hours. Quit being such a killjoy," I told him, standing still and propping my hands on my hips. "I miss it here. I figured, if I could come visit every now and then, maybe I wouldn't be so miserable Aboveground. I'm not planning on, like, _moving_ here or anything, though."

"You don't understand! When you're _here_, in _his _Labyrinth, _he has power over you!_" Hoggle pleaded, and I felt my bones turn to ice again.

"What? No, I'm just hanging out, I never -"

"He _rules_ this place, Sarah, and _you are in it._ Six little words can't change that," he said, and I looked around in a panic.

"Does he know I'm here?" I whispered, suddenly expecting him to pop up and demolish me in a particularly unpleasant fashion. I was really worried about stray crystals again.

"How should I know? Look, let's just get you back before he comes and dumps us both in the bog."

I shivered - I was worried about _way_ worse things than the bog.

I followed Hoggle inside again, sitting obediently as he tried several spells or incantations or whatever, and started getting antsy when the fifth one hadn't worked.

"Why isn't anything happening?" I asked quietly, as Hoggle paced in a worried manner, after the seventh try had failed.

"Why? You want to know why? Because humans aren't supposed to _leave_ the Labyrinth, that's why! I have no clue how to get _rid_ of a human! Only _Jareth_ ever does that!" he ranted, and the mass of icy serpents in the pit of my stomach writhed uncomfortably. It took me a moment, but I finally put voice to the fear I'd been hosting ever since our first try didn't work.

"Do you think he's blocking me?" I whispered, my eyes on the floor. I saw Hoggle's feet stop, and didn't want to look at his face.

"Come on. We've got to get you out of here," he said after a moment, and grabbed my hand to lead me outside.

"Wasn't that what we've been trying to do?" I asked, confused, as I followed him. He shook his head.

"We were trying to get you out of the Underground. Now, I'm getting you out of his Labyrinth, until we can figure something out," he said.

I sighed. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. I was just coming down for a little while. I wasn't _staying_… I had a _home_, Aboveground…

_A home you hate,_ a little voice whispered, and I frowned. I didn't _hate_ it, it was just…

_Cold. Barren, _the voice supplied. _Lonely_.

Lonely.

Yes, it was lonely.

Sure, I had Karen and Dad and Toby, but I wasn't really there with them. I interacted with them when necessary, but I hid the most fundamental parts of myself from them. Was that really how a family acted?

And then there was _Maman_ Delia, but… she conversed with Underground inhabitants all the time. I could probably still get messages to her and stuff. And really, the only reason I had become so close to her was because she reminded me of the Underground.

Where I was, right now.

Suddenly, I wasn't worried about going home anymore. Really, it hadn't been my home for four months.

This was home.

I was home.

_The lost and the lonely, that's Underground…_

* * *

**AN: **Yay! Just a little blip that took hold during the Halloween Candy Shopping Extravaganza, and refused to let go. And to my Mayhem Abounding readers! I am still writing on it, fear not, but you know how Jareth gets. All about him... New story? Why not. Right now? Sure thing. Blasted faerie...

Reviews are always appreciated!


	2. Halloween, 1991

**Halloween, 1991**

"Wow, that one _really_ missed the mark," said the bug-eyed little goblin at my shoulder. I followed his gaze to a very well-endowed young woman strutting up to the gates, noting that her assets jiggled in an exceedingly distracting - and probably pretty uncomfortable - manner with each step. Her hair, which seemed to have been colored an unnatural shade of pitch black, was teased and curled into an enormous mass vaguely reminiscent of a 17th century, feather-bedecked production, complete with fist-sized silver roses and strings of pearls. Her dress, which was so massive I suspected any sort of voluntary locomotion had to be aided by magic, was almost obscenely low-cut and even frillier than _mine_ had been. I glowered.

"My hair's brown, for Hoggle's sake. And my dress was pretty and chaste, not gaudy and whorey. Freakin' tart…" I groused, leaning against my booth with my arms crossed, as my friend and partner, Nok, and I watched the nobility and hangers-on of Underground society trickle into the castle behind us.

Every year, for Samhain, an enormous ball was held at the Underground First City, to which everybody who was somebody was invited, and everybody who wanted to be somebody tried to sneak in.

I made a point to be here every year, not to sneak in - I already knew I wasn't somebody, and was perfectly happy with that -, but to see the outrageous and breath-taking costumes of the attendees, and of course to reap in the benefits of lots of intoxicated rich people in the immediate proximity. For a merchant such as myself, it was a gold mine.

As a result of my attendance, I had noticed an increasingly popular trend over the last several years - apparently, it had become something of a tradition for all the eligible fae twits to dress up in an outfit that greatly resembled the sugar-and-lace confection I had worn in Jareth's ballroom, and parade themselves around in a mildly wanton fashion before the eligible men.

I doubted it was coincidence. And I was quite offended.

"Oh, that one's not too bad," Nok said, drawing my attention to a more reasonably dressed girl, with a delicate silver mask over her eyes. I appraised her critically, before nodding.

"Yeah, she passes. We won't egg her carriage," I decided, and Nok grinned.

"Good thing - we're going to be really busy tonight if we have to egg the carriage of _every_ girl who shows up in a white gown," he teased, and I shot him a glare. I loved the little snot and all, but sometimes I wanted nothing more dearly than to hang him over the Bog for an hour or so.

"I'm allowed to egg the transportation of anyone dumb enough to stomp all over my ego right in front of me," I said with a huff, adjusting my mask. I had modeled it to look like my favorite animal - an owl - and the feathers on the sides were itching like crazy.

"Would you quit messing with it? You're plucking all the feathers out!" Nok scolded. I slanted him another look, but obligingly stopped fiddling with it. My little goblin had been co-constructor of my costume, and had probably put more effort and patience into it than I ever could. His focus was outrageous - that little goblin could fix the ozone layer if he put his mind to it.

Sighing, I tried to distract myself by re-organizing the goods displayed at my booth for the third time tonight.

Five years ago, when I had relocated myself back to the Labyrinth, I stuck close by - sneaking around the outskirts collecting oddities and trinkets, avoiding anything that seemed Jareth-y, making new friends - and familiarized myself with the massive, Minotaur-less Cretan construction. My favorite place was the Junkyard - not because I hoped to find things from my past, or looked for comfort in the familiar Aboveground discards, but because you can find the coolest stuff mixed in with the useless trash, and Underground residents go batty over it.

On one of my rounds, while fiddling with a broken miniature Rubik's Cube - I'd pay good money to see how Jareth would fare against one of those things - I stumbled across a little goblin that looked more like a saucer-eyed, hairless spider monkey than anything, being harassed by a group of his larger brethren.

I intervened, of course.

Nok, as I had learned was his name, and I took an instant liking to each other, and developed a mutually beneficial friendship - I protected him from the things he couldn't defend himself against, and he showed me where all the good loot was. He was extremely curious and absorbed everything around him - from watching Hoggle keep up with maintenance and repairs, to my sarcasm and modern grammar - and we quickly discovered his talent for tinkering.

We also discovered his weakness for anything shiny.

Honestly, if there is anything mildly reflective within a twenty-foot radius, he will sense it - and go scuttling off to inspect it, regardless of what he is currently doing and/or the impact it may have on the present company's (i.e., my) wellbeing. It's not one of his more endearing qualities.

I eventually grew tired of hiding and sneaking around my familiar turf, and branched out, traveling around the Underground with Nok - my monkey mechanic, as I affectionately called him - and creating a reputation for myself as something of a traveling merchant. I had considered myself lucky to have avoided any run-ins with a certain conquered king, though there had been a few close calls, and was supremely relieved that His Nibs would not be making an appearance tonight, though there had been rumors.

I idly rubbed a quarter-sized, smooth black river stone between my fingers, reciting my lucky mantra (_I am lucky, I am totally mega lucky, Lady Luck is my home girl, I am so lucky I make the God of Good Fortune look star-crossed), _and tried not to let my imagination concoct scenarios of what a catastrophe a chance meeting with Jareth would be.

I shivered slightly.

"Cold, kitten?" a vaguely amused, nearly familiar voice said in my ear, and I kept myself from jumping or shrieking in surprise only because of my extensive practice at hiding any sort of startlement or alarm.

I noticed that Nok was all of a sudden conveniently missing.

Turning and smiling dangerously over my shoulder at my companion, I dragged my eyes over him. He was tall, with ruffled, close-clipped blonde hair and wintry slate grey eyes, dressed in heavy white furs speckled with grey and black spots. I couldn't tell if his sharp teeth were natural or not, and as I met his eyes again, I noticed his pupils were vertical, like a cat's.

"Depends on whether you're offering to keep me warm," I replied, and bared my teeth a little more. "I could always use another fur coat."

The snow leopard impersonator before me grinned, something dangerous glinting in his stone grey, off-kilter eyes.

"Haven't changed a bit, have you, kitten?" he said, and suddenly, his familiarity clicked - a lifetime ago, in a Hoodoo shop a world away, this snake had fenced with me and yielded. My hackles rose, and he smirked, circling me slowly.

"Though, perhaps not such a kitten after all, hmm?" he murmured, taking in my costume. He plucked lightly at the shoulder of my feathered cape. I was suddenly less comfortable under his scrutiny; my figure-hugging white tights and open-necked, low-cut white poet shirt seemed horribly inadequate protection. "A falcon, are we, perhaps?"

I forced myself to appear calm and unruffled, and followed him without turning my head.

"An owl, actually," I corrected, and I thought I saw his slitted eyes widen just a hair. I decided he didn't need to know I had dressed in an outfit a king had once worn, while offering a truce to an enemy.

"Ah, but of course. I wonder what he'll think of your impersonation, little dove?" he wondered aloud, and I only narrowly resisted the urge to crap on his shoe for persisting with the stupid adorably-helpless-animal nicknames.

"I wonder that you assume he'll hear of it," I said, pulling myself up onto the counter of my display and crossing my legs - it made me feel a teeny bit less vulnerable - and paused deliberately. "Kitten," I added, eyeing his feline costume.

He grinned at me again - no, I corrected myself, he bared his teeth at me. There was nothing even mildly amused or sociable about that expression; only a fool would call that a smile. It was a warning - tread lightly.

"Well, now, we wouldn't expect him to attend his own ball and not stop by to see his lovely little prize, would we, dove?" he said, an underlying gloat in his tone, and I felt my spine turn to iced steel. This was _his_ ball?

"He isn't coming tonight," I said mechanically, determined not to sound panicked in the least. My attempt to cover up my alarm obviously failed - the snake's nostrils flared and he smirked, clearly satisfied. I was suddenly sure he could actually _smell_ my fear. Which was hardly surprising, as it was probably peeling off me in massive, icy sheets.

"You sound quite sure, little dove. In possession of knowledge I have not been made privy to?" he asked rhetorically. He gave the dramatic, put-upon sigh of someone used to being the last to know. "I suppose it's no surprise. After all, one would only expect you to be his confidante - obviously you two are still close," he said, and gave me a once over, making my skin prickle violently. I remembered the sensation being far less painfully invasive Aboveground.

"I see his marks haven't faded in the slightest," he smirked. "I suppose it's a hazard of close contact with the likes of a Goblin Fae."

I kept my face neutral and said nothing. He obviously knew I was terrified of Jareth and therefore wouldn't be caught dead within two miles of him, and must be trying to bait me.

He regarded me for a moment, a really _freakin _irritating look on his smug face, and a self-satisfied glow in his slitted, preadatory eyes. I constructed a mental reel of punching that expression off his face, and set it on loop.

It was surprisingly soothing. By the time he was clutching at a bloody, broken nose for the fifth time, I was quite nearly happy again.

I silently thanked the Gods of Warped Imaginations for my creativity.

After I had regained my composure, I glanced down at the palm I knew still carried Jareth's 'brand', and flexed my fingers, sighing in a resigned manner.

"I know. It's a bit annoying, I must admit - you Faeries and your insistence on 'marking' things," I said, and rolled my eyes in an affectionately tolerant manner. "I keep telling him to ease up, it's quite obvious enough already, but you know him. I've been meaning to start wearing leather gloves, and such, but it's _so_ impractical…" I said mildly, as though it didn't bother me one whit that I had the Jareth Stamp of Approval in indelible magic-ink all over me, flashing my fencing partner a knife-edged, vaguely suggestive grin.

"By the by, he says hello," I added, just to be cocky.

He stiffened for a moment and I took the opportunity to congratulate myself and do a triumphant little jig in my head -

And then he was at my neck, his breath slithering over my skin and leaving a moist residue as the heat of it collided with the cool air and my chilled flesh. I shuddered, and would have toppled backwards over my booth, if not for his iron grip on my biceps. I was quite certain I would have two pretty handprints on them for the next week or so.

"If you'd like, little dove, I could get rid of them for you," he said, his voice low, and I felt a sharp lance of fear stab through my belly.

I had just provoked someone stronger, faster, and probably more intelligent than me, and he had me pinned.

Definitely _not_ on my Top-Ten-Situations-To-Be-In-While-Unarmed list.

"If by 'get rid of', you mean 'replace with your own obnoxious signature', I'd just as soon stick with Jareth's, thanks," I retorted. Apparently, my mouth had not gotten the message that this jerk was Dangerous, and to Play It Safe.

Surprise, surprise.

He growled in a distinctly offended manner, and I tried very hard not to show how intense the pain in my arms had become.

"Insolence is not attractive, my pet. Though, I must admit, it does make it far more satisfying in the end, when you grovel," he chuckled, dipping his head to the stylized silver pendant that hung around my neck. He ran his tongue down the chain, leaving a slick, slimy trial of thick saliva behind -

And abruptly jerked back, howling, and clutched at his mouth as he wheeled away from me.

I wiped the spit off my skin, making a face, and regarded him with distaste as he gaped at me. A line of blood, just a shade too pale, trickled out from behind his hands.

"Cold iron isn't very tasty, is it?" I asked. His eyes narrowed to incensed slits, a growl bubbling up from his burned, ruined mouth.

I held up my cold, cast iron necklace and chain, a gift from a fellow - though less fortunate - Labyrinth runner, and traced the dual-horned, distinctive ornament. It was a copy of the one Jareth wore, created out of his bane. I found it rather appropriate.

As I plucked a bit of smoldering tongue off of the chain, I smirked at the injured snake.

"I'm human, Kitten, not stupid. Did you really think I wouldn't take precautions?" I asked in a mildly offended, but tolerant, tone, meeting his eyes as his injured rage boiled over, and felt my own widen in surprise as he charged me.

Instantly I flung my hands up, grasping onto any flesh I could reach, and felt the skin beneath my intricate, twisting iron rings splitting and recoiling, the wounds burning so hot they cauterized themselves instantly.

He shrieked and flung himself back, and I followed, pressing my advantage while I had it. I securely clamped a hand, bearing three separate rings, around his throat and bared my teeth in a vicious grin as he writhed under me.

"I guess my marks _are _a little more permanent, huh?" I said, and released him. He scuttled away, growling and whimpering simultaneously. I wiped my hand on my pants, leaving a bloody, charred smear across the white fabric.

"Nice seeing you again," I said pleasantly, and wiggled my fingers at him. "Do drop by next year. You're my only reliable gauge of how blatantly obvious all my Jareth-marks are. Quite invaluable," I told him, and casually cleaned bits of his flesh out from under my nails. "However, you should probably leave now," I said, and gave him a cold, utterly dispassionate look as I flicked his blood off my fingertips.

He snarled something in a tongue I recognized, but was still learning - though I thought I recognized a few swearwords - and lunged unsteadily to his feet, darting jerkily away while still managing to look inhumanly graceful.

I really wished I could learn how to do that. It would make being drunk so much less embarrassing.

Once he was quite assuredly gone, I slid down the back of my booth, dropping into a trembling puddle of spent adrenaline and terror, the aftershocks of the confrontation hitting me like a brick wall.

I was really _stupid_ sometimes.

"Wow. You've really got being fatally _dumb_ down to an art," Nok told me, wriggling his way to my shoulder.

I scowled at him.

"Hey, I held my own, didn't I?" I protested, peering at the blackened, bloody smear on my leg and wondering how the heck I was gonna get that horrible stain out of my white pants.

"I suppose, if blatant cheating counts as 'holding your own'," he said, and I shot him an even scowlier look.

"It's not cheating. He's got physical advantages, and I leveled the field. That's called 'playing it smart', or 'using your resources to their fullest extent', not _cheating_."

Nok rolled his enormous eyes. "Right, and what you did overnight in that blonde boy's tent was really just 'negotiations'," he sniped. I blushed and glared at him, crossing my arms.

"I thought we agreed to drop that."

"No, _you_ decided to never mention it again, and _I_ decided to mention it whenever possible."

I glared harder.

"Why do I like you again?"

Nok blinked his big, bug eyes and snuggled into my shoulder. "Because I'm adorable, intelligent, and an indispensable part of your business," he reminded me.

I muttered grumpily under my breath, unable to dispute any of that.

"That was impressive, _Cheri_," said a quiet, rumbling baritone from above me, and I quite nearly betrayed my surprise by yelping, or jumping, or something equally telling and disheartening. Nok had once again slunk off somewhere, his keen sense of self-preservation telling him this was not the place for one of Jareth's missing goblins to be. I craned my head back to see a golden-skinned, dark-haired man with big, warm black eyes and a pearly white smile. "Though it wasn't quite what I had in mind when I gave you that necklace."

I grinned cheekily and hauled myself to my feet, leaning over to embrace him.

"I like to think I have a talent for improvisation," I bragged, and he scoffed as we withdrew.

"I see _Maman_ Deliadidn't lie about your… courage," he replied delicately, and I grinned wider.

"Somehow I doubt _Maman_ Deliawould ever use 'courage' and 'Sarah' in the same sentence, unless discussing the necessary characteristics for befriending me," I said. Armand laughed, and it sent pleasant, comforting vibrations through the air, enveloping me like a warm, soft blanket.

The only people I'd ever met with a laugh like that had been Creole. I suspected it had something to do with the fact that they never ate anything unless it was obscenely spicy. Granted, Armand probably hadn't had a genuine Creole meal for some time, but obviously the heating effects still lingered.

Armand idly tugged at the iron collar around his throat, in the manner of someone fiddling with a stray thread on a shirt. I could see the slightly discolored, rougher skin underneath it, where his skin had long ago been abraded by the metal.

It was one more thing I hated Jareth for.

"How are you?" I asked lowly, concern lacing my tone. I swore, if that poofy-haired sonofa bitch was treating him badly -

"I'm fine, _Cheri_, as you well know. Jareth wouldn't harm me," he said gently. I scowled. He seemed to be currently in the Goblin King's good graces, but I knew quite well that the whims of a Faerie could be extremely mercurial - a fact which he also should have been more than aware of, but was stubbornly overlooking.

Armand had been wished away four years ago.

His cousin, who had wished him away, had taken his chance in the Labyrinth, but barely made it inside the walls by the end of the time limit. Armand was then rightfully Jareth's, and by all rights should have been turned into a goblin. However, Armand has a disdain for following anyone's preconceived notions and a firm dislike for rules, and therefore had of course convinced the haughty, calculating, volatile King of the Goblins to take him on as the royal retainer.

Four years, and he still refused to tell me how he did it.

Tight-lipped bastard.

"Well, watch your back anyhow. And should you need me…"

Armand smiled, much in the same manner I used to smile at my friends as they disappeared back through my mirror at night, and inclined his head to me. "I'll call, _Cheri_."

I chewed my lip unhappily, but accepted. For some ridiculous reason, Armand trusted Jareth, and there was absolutely nothing I could do to change his mind.

Looking around at my booth, now destroyed due to my little altercation with Kitten, I sighed and decided to pack things up for the night. Now that Armand was here, I gave far more credence to the rumors that Jareth was going to be making an appearance, and I had absolutely no intention of risking that catastrophe for whatever earnings I may have made tonight. I glanced at Armand.

"So, I take it His Nibs is on his way?" I asked casually, and Armand gave me a level look.

"He isn't as evil as you think him to be. A little wicked, but wicked isn't the same thing as evil, Sarah," he said, and I started a little at the use of my name. I hadn't told anyone my name in years. Of course, he knew it already, but out of respect for my desire for anonymity - the less people knew I was Underground, the less likely it was _he _would find me - he usually called me some variance of _Cheri._

I looked back at Armand, and tilted my head.

"If he has _you_ convinced so completely, he is either _very_ good at deceiving, or I'm wrong, and I'll let you guess which of the two I'm gonna go with. But all the same, evil or just wicked, I crossed him. Thoroughly. And I don't intend to take my chances with him." I turned back to my booth and began organizing my things, packing as I went. Armand was silent for a moment, then sighed and came around to help me. We'd had this conversation before, and by now we knew it was rather futile. Didn't mean we wouldn't try to sway the other, but we wouldn't push.

"I went Aboveground recently," he said, and I felt my mood lighten instantly.

"Really? Did you see him?" I asked excitedly. My friend nodded.

"He is well, and happy. He has a dog, now - a Boxer, I believe - and he seems quite fond of him. Named him Ludo."

I snorted. Toby had always liked Ludo the best.

"What about his eyes?"

Armand grimaced. "No change," he reported, and I grimaced as well. Toby's eyes, once he had hit two years old, had started changing color - or, one of them had. Over the course of a year, his left eye had slowly darkened to a greenish-brown, while the other had stayed a pure, bright baby blue. I disliked the implications of that.

"And did you tell him what I said?" I asked, and Armand nodded.

"Of course, _Cheri_. He says he wouldn't dream of it, and he would very much like to see you again," he replied, and I felt a sharp, hateful little stab rip though me. I missed Toby, more than I had imagined I would, and would actually like very much to go Aboveground and see him.

Unfortunately, over the last five years, I still had not found a way to return. I hadn't been looking terribly hard, but it seemed that the only sure way to cross was with the help of a very powerful being, according to Armand.

The only very powerful being I knew was currently enslaving my friend and had a bit of a grudge against me for ruining his castle. Therefore, it was probably gonna be a while before I made it back up to see my brother.

I pushed my wistfulness and hurt and anxiety back down, and continued with my tasks.

"And what about Robert and Karen? Still remember nothing?"

"No, nothing. _Maman_ Delia knows her work well," he said, ignoring my lack of response to his last answer, for which I was grateful. I nodded.

"That she does," I murmured. _Maman_ Delia, after I had disappeared Underground, had gone to extreme lengths to locate me. Once she had, she told me I was lucky she couldn't come whip my hide for being so stupid, to be careful, and not to worry, she would take care of my parents' concerns. It turned out that by 'take care of', she meant 'erase'; she had dulled their memories of me, so that I was but a foggy almost-dream, that could easily have been passed off as a story from an old coworker about his family, or banter with the family physician.

It had worked on everyone but Toby - another implication I was uncomfortable with.

We finished packing my little booth in companionable silence, and I hugged Armand as we stood by my cart. He squeezed my shoulders, an extra bit of affection, and sighed against my hair.

"Take care, _Cheri._ I don't want to see you being attacked the next time we meet," he told me, and I laughed.

"You know better than to ask for the impossible, Armand," I chided playfully.

He released me and gave me a look, but smoothed my feathered shoulders in a friendly manner. He opened his mouth to say something, but abruptly stiffened, his eyes going distant.

My stomach coiled in on itself, my innards twisting into icy knots. I knew what that look meant.

Jareth was coming.

"Go, quickly," he said as he saw the look on my face, and I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek, taking one last look at the beautiful, grand castle behind us.

I could hear the strings and flutes spinning a song inside, and I had no difficulty imagining all the princesses in their fluffy white dresses twirling around prettily in front of their princes, chasing their fairytales.

I ran the other way, as fast as my boot-clad feet would take me, my feathered cape spreading behind me like great white wings as I hauled ass to outrun my dreams.

I knew better than to wish for dreams and fairytales. Because really, who wants one anyways? Dreams are always partial - you can never dream for the thing you want most, because once you have it, you'll wind up wanting something different. Seen it happen, plenty of times. And fairytales? Just as useless. There's one thing that no one seems to consider with them -

Fairytales end.

_No one can blame you_

_For walking away…_


	3. Halloween, 1994 Part One

**Disclaimer: ***Looks up from Imagination Corner, wielding a peanutbutter slathered spoon intimidatingly* Whaf? Canf foo hee Ah'm bivvy?

_Translation: Oh, pardon me, darlings, it seems you've caught me at an inopportune time. Would you be so kind as to call back later?_

**And Special Thanks to my lovely Betas, TrashedXandXScattered, and Lov2Catnap!**

*_whooo! haaaaaaaa*_

**

* * *

**

**Halloween, 1994 - Part One**

"No, Nok, you have to stay here," I said for the umpteen-billionth time, gently extracting the skinny, bug-eyed little goblin from my pack and setting him on the sandy ground. He widened his already comically enormous eyes at me and did an excellent job of looking pitiful. I quickly looked away before I either laughed or gave in.

"But, you promised," he pleaded, wiggling back around to my line of vision, now complete with a quivering bottom lip. I pressed my lips together to trap the 'Awww' bubbling up from my white, puffy marshmallow of a heart.

"I did no such thing, and you know it. You _know_ you can't come with me, Nok, you belong _here_. And who knows when I'll be back?" I said, focusing on repacking my bag as an excuse to continue avoiding his cute, owlish little face. He pouted and made a whiny, 'it's not fair' noise.

"But I _want_ to belong with you! Who else am I going to hang out with while you're gone? I _need_ you, you know I can't stand up to those other goblins!" he protested, and the marshmallow in my chest roasted itself alive over a fire of guilt for a few minutes.

"Don't play that card. You can stay with Hoggle and Ludo. And Sir Didymus will gladly champion you, he's said so before," I reasoned, trying to smother the guilt-flames now licking at my stomach and making my innards twist unpleasantly. I saw Nok roll his huge eyes on the edge of my vision, and I tried not to grin.

"Oh, yes, I feel so secure now," he snorted. I forced my face into a reproachful expression before I turned back to him.

"Now, that's not very nice. You have an awfully massive sarcastic streak for a goblin, you know. Aren't you supposed to be endearingly dim?" I accused teasingly.

"I was, once, but then this human showed up and corrupted me," he retorted with a cheeky smirk. I sighed and held out my arms for a hug. He grudgingly complied.

"Look, I'll come back as soon as I can. Midwinter, I will totally be here, if it is _at all _in my power," I promised, and Nok sighed.

"That's not a promise at all. You've been trying to get back Aboveground for three years," he pointed out. I growled mockingly.

"I would have made it, last time, if a certain nosy goblin had kept to himself like I told him," I snapped, and Nok had the good sense to stifle his chuckle.

"Regardless, even if you _do_ come back, how do you plan on alerting me? You don't dare come anywhere near the Labyrinth," he said, gesturing at the barely visible twisting maze below us. "We're barely on the outskirts, and you're twitching like a chicken in his throne room." I grimaced.

Nok was right.

"I'll figure something out. I always do, you know," I assured him, patting his head and gently pushing him to his appointed waiting spot - the tree Jareth had brought me to, after I had quite stupidly wished away my little brother. I thought it was fitting. Slightly dangerous, being so near the Labyrinth, but fitting.

Nok grumbled unintelligibly and stomped over to his time-out spot, kicking at stray stones and twigs as he went. I tried very hard to ignore him and not feel guilty.

It was harder than I'd expected.

I busied myself with preparations - donning amulets, adjusting the placement of my props, drawing and re-drawing the symbols on various key points of myself, nervously checking my watch every three minutes or so - and resisted the urge to run over and scoop Nok into my bag. I forced myself to think of other things as I worked, and now, as I was faced with the possibility - _probability _- of going back after so long, I found myself itching with excitement. It was silly, almost vacillating, for _I_, who had been so desperate to escape back Underground, to be so anxious to voluntarily leave. Really, there was nothing up there for me, and the whole time I was there, I'd probably be dying to get back here.

But I would get to see Toby.

And that made it all worth it.

He would be nine years old now, and according to Armand, had the 'face of a cherub, and the eyes of Puck', and having met Puck on more than one occasion, I was quite excited to get back and see this for myself. Based on the letters Toby and I had managed to get to each other, he was a snarky, intelligent little booger, and not only was I dying to meet this new, mischievous brother of mine, I wanted to be quite sure that Puck had not been meddling with my family. He'd promised not to, but, well, he was _Puck_.

Though, I did have to admit to myself that Toby wasn't the only reason I was going back. On my routes through towns and aimless wanderings Underground, I'd met several other humans roaming around that I recognized - Hoodoo priests and merchants, Wicca priestesses', a wanderer who remembered me and was far more dangerous in his native land than in mine - and it made me wonder what I could make with my wares back Aboveground.

Unfortunately, it was spectacularly difficult to get there.

As a human, I had no inherent magic of my own - therefore, I could not manipulate the barriers between the realms the way, say, Jareth might. In fact, those I told my story to found it quite astonishing that I had made it down here at all.

I quickly found out that the only times for mere mortals such as I to cross were during shifts of balance, such as Midwinter or Midsummer, and Halloween, when the Underground and its counterpart were nearest each other. It took a little research and a lot of creativity, but after a significant number of humbling failures, I had finally concocted a fool-proof plan. A plan which I had put it into action three months ago at Midsummer, and was quite positive would have worked, had a certain bug-eyed little troublemaker stayed out of my pack like I'd told him to.

Now, one minute away from midnight, All Hallows Eve, I intended to try again, and Nok was going to damn well stay where he should, or I would break his adorable little goblin neck.

I grabbed up my traveling bag that held all of my necessities, and the three other massive sacks that held all of my wares - I had discovered that a successful merchant was someone who was often irritated, knew a daunting array of swear words in any language they had encountered, and was always lugging an obscene amount of junk. It was a far cry from my sixteen-year-old idea of a merchant, but satisfying nonetheless.

As the second hand on my watch ticked closer to midnight, the symbols on my palms and pressure points tingled sharply, and I glanced back at the twisted, lonely tree and the small goblin at its base, trying to give him an encouraging smile despite the look of agonized betrayal etched into his squished, wide-eyed little face.

He just glowered at me.

Sighing, I turned back around and started my invocations, closing my eyes and envisioning a malleable, pliant barrier, stretching like a never-ending wall, between me and my destination. Slowly, I called it toward me, felt it press against me in a sensation akin to walking through saran wrap, and visualized it parting around me. I felt it snap against my skin sharply, and jerked at the sudden sting - it was like an over-filled balloon popping in my face - and opened my eyes to find myself in the middle of a park.

I smiled as I looked around at the familiar place. It hadn't changed in my absence. The lake was still clean and peaceful, complete with two swans gliding serenely along. The old, jagged, stonework bridge, thankfully much stronger than the one I had encountered in the Labyrinth, was still near the small, simple bench that had once been the favorite spot for a shaggy old sheepdog to watch his human make a fool of herself in a hand-sewn, fairytale-princess-in-white costume. The tall clock-tower, as stodgy and overbearing as ever, steadily chimed the midnight hour in the city square.

It even still smelled vaguely of fish and cheeseburgers.

"Bleh, no wonder you left. It smells awful here," said a muffled, nasally voice at my shoulder.

I whipped my head around to find Nok perched on top of my pack, peering around distastefully, his fingers pinched firmly over his nose.

"_Nok!_" I admonished loudly, and he winced a little. "Do you have any idea how dangerous that was? I can't _believe_, after all the precautions and modifications I made, _with your help_, that you would hitch onto an invocation! What if you dragged at me, hmm? What if we didn't make it through? What if we got separated? What if you had gotten caught in the Never-never for all eternity, huh? I highly doubt there's anything for you to tinker around with in a _massive, empty, black void!_" I screeched, huffing in anger.

Nok looked morosely at the ground, and said in a very small, quiet voice, "You were leaving me," like it was an iron-clad excuse.

It was.

In those four words, I was suddenly looking at monkey version of myself as I watched my mother leave, suddenly felt all the burning hurt and confusion, knowing with steel-edged certainty that I wasn't good enough to keep her attention.

I dropped my bags, wrapping my arms around my little friend and hugging him as tightly as I could, fighting off the tears I felt threatening to turn my furious puffing into big, girly sobs.

"I'm sorry, Nok. I promise I won't do it again," I sniffled. "I was really dumb."

"I need to breathe still, Sarah," he wheezed, and I lessened my strangle hold a tad. "And yes, you were dumb. How did you plan to find anything useful without me? You'd wind up coming home with a bag full of useless, broken baubles," he said, and I made a noise distressingly similar to the dreaded girly sob as he wrapped his skinny little arms around my neck.

"You are not cute. You are very, very annoying, and will be spending the majority of the trip up here safely in my pack, where you can't get into any mischief and I know exactly where you are," I told him in a stern, don't-think-you're-actually-getting-away-with-this tone, though the effect may have been slightly lessened by the fact that my marshmallow heart was leaking fluffy white goo all over the place.

"Just so long as I get to stay with you," he said contentedly, snuggling comfortably into my shoulder.

I gave into the girly sobs and sat down, smiling and crying and laughing with my goblin friend.

* * *

Nok was fantastically dreadful at being inconspicuous.

It turned out he didn't realize I was serious when I had told him his new favorite place was going to be the inside of my pack, and only after a good bit of grumbling and much theatrics had we reached a compromise : I would leave the bag unzipped, and he would be good and stay out of sight.

He was unfortunately very bad at being good.

"Honestly, the slightest little glimmer catches your eye and off you scamper, no warning, not a _glance_ to see if anyone is around - do you _know_ how fast those big, bladeless Cleaner machines go?" I chastised, securing him back in my bag. He cast a glower at the street.

"Stupid fast. If they can't see that their path is already perfectly clean, they need to slow down," he said petulantly, and I sighed, trying to stomp on the affectionate smile lurking behind my irritated mask.

"Please, _try_ to stay out of trouble, alright? At least out of the streets, anyways," I said, and picked my merchandise back up. "And stay down, this time. I know how to negotiate, thank you."

Nok snorted, and I shot him a quick glare. He rolled his eyes, and repeated our little deal that had kept our partnership running (relatively) smoothly the past few years.

"Sarah is the merchant, and leaves Nok's repairs alone, no matter how long it's taking him; Nok is the mechanic, and stays out of negotiations, no matter how badly Sarah is arguing," he droned, and I nodded, satisfied, as I pushed open the door to one of my old haunts.

A string of seashells over the door announced my arrival, and a handsome young Creole man looked up from his book balancing, smiling when he saw me.

"Well now, iffinn't _cher_ Sarah? An shez no _fille juene_ more longer," he said, liberally rounding his vowels, relaxing in a languid manner that mimicked his speech. I smiled. He'd put up with a lot of annoying questions from a lonely teenage girl once upon a time, even though I was sure he'd rather have been running around with his own, newly legal friends.

But it didn't make me forget what he'd done.

Beau was nice. He didn't have much of a temper, was good looking and charming and polite. He was every mother's dream. Just as his cousin was every mother's nightmare.

Armand, five years Beau's senior, was a hellion. He roamed where he liked and did what he wished, with little regard for petty things like laws and common decency. He'd lived freely, with his eyes open to just what the world was _really_ like and enough attitude and shrewd intellect to get by in it. Despite their apparent differences, the two had been close. Beau was more or less incorruptible, and Armand was unpersuadable. Until they met me, it seemed.

_Maman _Delia was a merchant with a foot in both Under and Aboveground, and both cousins were well acquainted with the former's residents - they knew the stories and tales and legends, and what not to say and when to run.

Which, of course, made Beau's actions all the more inexcusable.

"Nice to see you again, Beau. Trust you're doing well?" I replied, striding forward and setting my things down gently. I rested on the edge of his counter, folding a leg under me, like I had as a girl, though I was no longer a misplaced child looking for magic.

"Doin beddah now, ain' I? Where been you, dese eight years?" he asked, flashing me a glimpse of a bright white smile and a broad, tan chest as he crossed his arms behind his head, his halfway undone button-down shirt gaping open.

I had to suppress a smile. He obviously didn't realize I knew, or he would probably have already run away. Of course, he did know I'd turned down an otherworldly King, and he was still giving it a go - I supposed persistence had to count for something.

"You know, around," I said carelessly. I studied a nearby shelf, keeping him in my peripheral. "Saw your cousin, Armand," I added in the same tone.

In the corner of my eye, Beau stiffened.

"Oh, now?" he said, some of the lazy swagger in his voice gone. I turned and smiled at him.

"Mm-hmm. He sends well wishes," I said, then paused, and ducked my head in mild chagrin. "Well, his regards, anyways. He's a bit careful with his wishes, these days."

Several months after I had returned to the Underground, Armand had paid Beau a visit, at _Maman _Delia's request. It seemed, that he'd grown a bit more attached to me than either she or I had realized, and was quite distraught over my disappearance.

Personally, I thought it leaned more toward guilt - that same day, he had encouraged me to seek out the magic I was so desperately missing, and probably blamed himself for my stupidity.

Whatever the reason, Beau was worrying _Maman_ Delia. When Armand showed up, the golden boy was already three sheets to the wind - an occurrence that had apparently become something of a habit.

So, Armand got drunk with him.

The two of them reminisced for a while, but when the subject turned to my departure, Beau's demeanor had changed. He became accusatory and argumentative, and, of course, a fight ensued.

Beau won, because he wished Armand away.

And with his cousin's freedom, he also lost my friendship.

Armand had, of course, petitioned forgiveness for him, but it did little to lessen my animosity. He knew the consequences, better than I had, and did it anyways - he deserved no forgiveness.

Beau considered me stoically for a moment, then laughed, a deep, rich baritone sound that rumbled through the room.

"No, no _fille juene_ more longer," he murmured, now assessing me with something akin to amused, wary appreciation. I gave him a decidedly sharp smile. "What be bringin _cher_ Sarah here?"

I tapped the bag on the floor with my foot.

"I have some things you may be interested in," I said, and fixed him with a stare I knew held more challenge than an average person would be comfortable with. _Do you dare look?_

Beau cocked an eyebrow at me, and reached down to the bag, keeping his eyes locked on mine as though I were a predator, liable to attack him if he showed a moment's distraction.

I tried not to giggle.

But I failed when Nok bit him.

Beau recoiled, swearing in a mixture of French and whatever other syllables he felt like throwing in, shaking his hand smartly. I tried to look concerned. Honestly.

"_What is that?"_ he demanded, and I carefully reached down and extracted Nok.

"This is Nok," I said, scratching his head. My little friend settled into my lap, giving Beau a criminally adorable growl of warning. "He's my monkey mechanic. Not actually for sale," I clarified.

The Creole man eyed his assailant, dislike plain in his features.

"The rest of it is, however," I prompted, and favored him with another knife-edged grin, tempting him to take the bait a second time. Beau leaned back a little and ran a long-fingered hand through his pretty, smooth black hair, and, for a moment, I thought he was going to continue his pursuit, until I recognized the look behind his black eyes. I was suddenly sure he was remembering a very dangerous interaction between a feisty fifteen-year-old and a snake with a pretty face, so long ago.

He nodded his head briefly, conceding defeat.

After, he called to the back room, and a woman in traditional Hoodoo robes emerged. I handled my business with her, and thankfully left with noticeably lighter luggage than I had entered with. _Maman_ Delia, it seemed, had recently left on business abroad. I was a little disappointed I was unable to see her, but more relieved that I wouldn't have to tell her face to face that I intended to go back.

Nok scrambled up onto my shoulder as I walked, casting an evil glare back at the shop we had left.

"That man tasted awful," he said, and I laughed.

"Well, I didn't tell you to _bite_ him, you know," I grinned, picking up my step toward a bus stop and its empty bench. Several children scuttled about, already in costume though it was barely midday.

Nok grinned, a goblin copy of the not-entirely-human grin I had given Beau, and I couldn't help but smirk a little.

"It was worth it. He was _really_ dim, wasn't he? How did he think he stood a chance, when you rejected _Jareth_?" he said, and I laughed again.

"Well, to be fair, I don't think he realized I have a thing for badass blonde kings, but it was a little presumptuous of him," I replied, and sat down on the bench, taking up a good two thirds of it with my luggage. I didn't see the skinny youth in a hooded sweater crouching at the opposite end.

"_Whoa,_" he breathed, and both Nok and I whipped our heads around.

"Oh, hello," I said, smiling warmly, and tugged on Nok's foot with my free hand. _Be good._

"What is _that_?" he asked, and I felt Nok bristle a bit - he was getting really tired of that question.

"He's a rare breed of hairless spider monkey," I replied evenly. The boy eyed us skeptically.

"How come his eyes are so big?"

"He's also part goldfish," I said, and tried _very_ hard not to giggle as Nok twitched.

The kid seemed satisfied for a moment, and nodded to himself, before tugging at his sweater.

"Why's he got clothes on?" He leaned over, inspecting my baggage. "Are you an organ grinder or something?"

I hesitated, seriously considering saying 'yes' and making Nok hop around a bit to 'ring around the rosy' or some such, but I rather suspected that I would deeply regret it later.

"Nah, I just dressed him up for Halloween," I said, and Nok squeezed my shoulder sharply. _Smart choice_.

"Oh." The boy simply watched us for a moment, eyes wide, before gesturing at Nok's rear. "Why's he got no tail?"

Nok snarled, lunging off my shoulder and scrabbling up the kid's sweater, until his huge eyes were level with the little human's.

"Because I'm a goblin, you twit, and if you keep asking stupid questions, I'm going to drag you Underground and turn you into one, too," he growled, and I pressed my lips together to keep from giggling.

"Now, Nok, that's not very friendly," I admonished, and reached out a hand to him. He grumbled and came back to me, still glaring at the boy, and slouched sulkily against my side. I scratched his head in a manner I knew he liked and winked at the kid.

"He's a little testy today," I explained. "He's usually a very well-behaved monkey."

Nok made a furious, strangled sound, and dove back into my pack, growling and grumbling obscenities in what sounded like Troll. I laughed as the kid flung himself off the bench and high-tailed it down the street, and pulled my pack around in front of me.

"Aww, come on, Nok, I was only teasing," I said, and was answered by one of my socks hurling itself at my face. I laughed again. Perhaps he'd stay in my bag like I'd told him to, now. "Alright, suit yourself," I told him, and shouldered my bag again as the bus pulled up, hoping he would behave himself at the next few shops.

* * *

"They all look the same," Nok said irritably, scowling at a group of children as they passed us by. "How can you possibly expect to find a specific one? You haven't even seen him in eight years."

I rolled my eyes and fidgeted with the edge of my cape. I had dressed up as a vampire - the same shock white face and bloody lips, same tattered black dress and billowing, high-collared cape I had left in - out of my unflagging sense of the appropriate.

And maybe I hoped Toby would recognize me.

I knew it was stupid, shaky logic - he'd been a year old when I left, how could he possibly? - but still… I could hope.

"Everyone is wearing a different costume. How can they all look the same to you?" I muttered distractedly to Nok, scanning the small faces around me for a pair of mismatched eyes. The goblin scoffed.

"You call those _costumes?_" he demanded, and crossed his arms. I smirked.

"Humans don't have magic, Nok, remember? Not everyone can generate a convincing goblin mask, or demon horns, or werewolf suit, just by flicking their wrist and snapping their fingers, you know. We have to settle for Wal-Mart," I told him, squinting at a skinny boy with white-blonde hair standing next to the bench.

We had agreed to meet at the park, in the general vicinity of the lake, but neither of us had given an exact location or description of our costumes. I think Toby was just as curious as I was to see if we could recognize each other.

I watched the blonde boy out of the corner of my eye for a moment. He toyed with his pillowcase of candy in a bored manner, plucking out pieces and discarding wrappers on the ground beside him, occasionally scanning the perimeter with the nervous looks of someone doing something wrong and expecting to be caught. I frowned. Was it him…?

"Oh, nice shot! Right behind the ear!" Nok said appreciatively, looking over toward the bridge. I tore my gaze away from the litterbug and followed his to a young woman dressed in a frilly white princess gown, her dark hair spun up and piled atop her head.

I instantly disliked her. Honestly, would I _never_ get away from that? I was _fifteen_, for crying out loud…

After a moment of wallowing in righteous outrage, I noticed she was looking around in a mildly bewildered manner, rubbing the side of her head gingerly. I smirked in vindictive satisfaction and glanced around her, looking for the mastermind behind her injury -

And found Toby.

There was no mistaking it - that was my brother. Now that I saw him, it was blatantly obvious. Honestly, no normal human child was capable of looking so… goblin-y.

"That's him," I breathed, and Nok clapped.

"Oh, good. He's been throwing things at people for a good ten minutes now, and he hits them almost every time. Every now and then, someone will look over at him, and he just smiles at them and they keep walking. He's a master at this," Nok told me, his awe apparent in his tone. I chuckled. Yeah, that was Toby all right.

Nok slipped back into my pack as I casually ambled over to my brother, staying just on the edge of his line of vision, and eyed him critically for a moment.

His hair was a curly blonde mess, brushing his ears and tangling down the nape of his neck in an altogether unruly fashion. The top of his head would probably reach about my shoulder, and he was thin, but not scrawny; well fed.

I assumed Robert had taken over his mealtime menu, then.

His face had lost some of its roundness, although it wouldn't start to develop the strong chin and high cheekbones my father had for several years, yet. He was dressed in jeans and a torn shirt, fake blood splattered liberally over both. His left cheek was scuffed and bloody, and there were two jagged holes on the side of his neck, each about the size of a straw.

He was a vampire victim.

I grinned. He _did_ remember me.

As I watched, he plucked a small piece of candy out of his little plastic pumpkin, and shot it at the princess' boyfriend. It hit him squarely on the nose, and he let out a decidedly unmanly yelp, clutching at his face. He immediately whipped around to glare at Toby, who was now sucking happily on a lollipop and watching a passing lightning bug, smiling angelically.

Face of a cherub, with the eyes of Puck.

The man's glare faltered, obviously feeling mistaken - how could such a little angel be the culprit? - and darted around, looking for another target.

I waited until Toby had followed the lightning bug to the opposite direction of me, and snuck up, sitting silently beside him on the wall of the bridge.

"That's quite good. Very impressive," I murmured to him, and stole a piece of candy from his bucket. "But a _true_ prankster never lets the suspicion fall on him. Like so," I said, aiming, and flicked the sweet off my palm. It bounced off the boyfriend's shoulder and hit the princess in the back of the neck, eliciting a high-pitched squeak of indignation and directing her accusations toward her boyfriend. I smiled in satisfaction and winked at Toby.

"Show-off. You owe me a piece of candy, now," he replied blandly, but his eyes sparkled merrily - I just knew he'd spend hours learning how to aim rebound projectiles, now. I laughed.

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have any candy, but how about this instead?" I said, reaching into my pack and pulling out a small, slender leather sheath. I handed it to him, and watched as he carefully took it and inspected it. I was quietly pleased with his examinations - he tested the seams and clasps, checked it for weak spots and wear, and even smelled it, though what he expected to sense by sniffing it, I wasn't sure. There was no way a nine-year-old human boy could detect poison or harmful spells on it… right?

After it passed his tests, he undid the brass clasps holding it closed and extracted the deceptively delicate-looking crystal dagger it held. It pulsed dimly in his hands, shifting between dull blues and greens, and I smiled. I'd known it would like him.

Toby handled it gently, a look of awe and affection on his face, as though he'd been reunited with a long-lost friend. Suddenly, he twirled it around with nimble fingers, as though he'd been training with it for years, and even tossed it a few feet in the air. I tried very hard not to panic.

He glanced at me, grinning.

The previous owner of that blade had often played with it - flipping it about, dancing it over his fingers as though it were a living thing - and it was a little unnerving to see my kid brother instantly take to the same habits. I assured myself that Nok had deemed it safe, and therefore, it was. Nok wouldn't be wrong - he was a genius with this sort of stuff.

"So, what's it do?" Toby asked, balancing the hilt of it on one finger with all the casual ease of a master blade-smith. I cocked an eyebrow.

"What makes you think it does anything more than glow all pretty like that?" I asked. He shrugged a slender little shoulder.

"It feels like it," he replied, tossing it up and catching it by the hilt. The blade pulsed happily. "It's practically buzzing with magic. _Maman_ Delia would have a field day with this," he said, and I grinned. _Maman_ Delia would do quite a few things if she found that, firstly locking it up and secondly tanning my hide for giving something so powerful to a kid.

"Well, I may have heard that it does a few things," I allowed, relaxing casually on the bench and crossing my legs, twitching a foot carelessly. Toby rolled his eyes and made a 'get on with it' gesture with his new knife. I chuckled.

"It is, of course, unbreakable. Which is quite useful, as it is practically impossible to repair crystal. Also, it likes you, and therefore as long as you are alive, no one will be able to handle it as well as you," I said, and his eyes glowed. I could just imagine him showing it off to all his little school friends. I could tell him it was a bad idea, and to keep it secret - but the knife would always find its way back to him should he lose it, and he was still a kid, after all. If I were him, I'd be dying to do the same thing.

Besides, it's not like he'd listen, anyways.

I pointed at the blade itself, indicating the swirling greenish blues inside. "And see the colors in it? They'll change if someone who wishes you harm comes near you - red at first, as a warning, and then different colors as a clarification: brown for jealousy, black for vengeance, purple for violent madness, and others as well, that you'll have to learn for yourself." Reaching over, I plucked the sheath from beside him, and indicated the carvings on it. "See these runes? They'll prevent anyone from noticing it while it isn't with you, and make you less noticeable when you carry it. Fantastic for sneaking around," I said, and winked at him. He grinned at me, and I was quite certain he would be using that particular asset to his advantage - once his teen years rolled around, Karen was _never_ going to know where he was.

"I suppose this is an adequate substitution for a Milky Way," he told me, and I felt a wry smile settle on my face.

"I'm so glad it meets your standards, Master Toby," I replied, amused, and ruffled his hair. He growled and shoved my hand off, glaring at me.

"Is it really a good idea to provoke me _right_ after you've given me a weapon?" he asked testily, and I laughed.

"Is it really a good idea to threaten someone with access to weapons like that?" I countered, and he paused for a moment, considering.

"I suppose, since you're my sister, I'll let it slide," he decided, and I laughed again.

"Bit of a smartass, isn't he?" Nok asked, suddenly perched on my shoulder once more. I grinned.

"Well, he _is_ related to me, after all," I said proudly, watching Toby surreptitiously for a reaction. According to Armand, Tobes had a rather unstable relationship with goblins; they tried to sneak around and cause mischief, and Toby laid traps for them, usually engineered to stun and based off brute force, and then tossed them back through his mirror.

Armand rather suspected that the goblins enjoyed the violence, and that Toby enjoyed the challenge.

I rather suspected that Toby was probably pretty irritated with them, and would soon start trying to do more than stun them if they didn't stop stealing his socks.

Toby peered curiously at my goblin friend, and cocked his head.

"Hi. I'm Toby, what's your name?" he asked in a friendly enough manner, and I relaxed a tad. Nok beamed at the first human he'd met today who hadn't responded to his appearance by shrieking '_What is THAT?'_ and running.

"I'm Nok. And I know exactly who you are, Toby, because for the past eight years, Sarah has refused to shut up about you."

I glared at Nok. "Oh, like you didn't enjoy most of the stories," I snapped. Nok rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, the first three times, maybe. But after a dozen or so recountings, the appeal sort of wears off."

Toby grinned. "Well, I'm sorry you had to put up with that on my account, and I hope you don't hold it against me," he said diplomatically, and Nok inclined his head.

"Of course not. Just as I hope you don't hold the general obnoxiousness of my species against me," he replied, and Toby frowned a little.

"Are you a goblin?" he asked, eyeing my little monkey mechanic. I immediately spoke up.

"Actually, he's a rare breed of spider monkey mixed with goldfi-"

"_Yes_, I'm a _goblin_," Nok said over me, scrabbling roughly over my head and down my other side to go sit with Toby. "I swear, if you tell _one more person_ that I am a distant relation of an aquatic lemur, _so help me_ you will never find another sock again," he threatened, and I tried not to grin too widely.

"Sorry, but it's really amusing," I apologized insincerely, and Nok grumbled unhappily as he scaled my brother's arm.

"You're a lot smarter than most goblins," Toby observed, and Nok proudly puffed out his chest a little.

"Yes, and I'm also a good deal more adorable and have much more appetizing culinary preferences," he informed him. Toby nodded wisely and offered him a candy.

"Snickers?"

"Don't mind if I do, thanks," he said, and scuttled off to the other side of the bridge to find someone to throw it at. I grinned and watched him go.

"So, when do we leave?" Toby asked, twirling his knife. I blinked at him.

"Where are we going?" I countered.

My brother rolled his eyes at me. "Underground, of course. Armand said you can only cross on certain days, Midwinter being the next, so I figure we have, what, seven weeks? I couldn't figure out exactly what day Midwinter fell on, so I've just been telling Mom and Dad that there's an exchange student thing coming up after Christmas," he said, and shrugged a shoulder. "I'll come up with something more concrete later."

Quite suddenly, there was suddenly a great gaping hole where my organs had been, and it was slowly filling with ice. Toby _couldn't_ go Underground. If _- when_ - Jareth found him -

I firmly stomped on that thought.

"Toby, you can't come with me," I said as gently as possible. He frowned at me.

"What do you mean, I can't? I'll just follow you through. I've already been setting Mom and Dad up for it, everything is fine - and it's not like school is a problem, I'm already way smarter than all the other kids, so-"

"No, Toby, that's not…" I sighed, rubbing a hand over my face and probably smearing my make-up. "Look, it's dangerous down there. _I'm _dangerous down there - I've got more enemies than you have fingers and toes, and none of them would be above using my kid brother against me," I said, maybe stretching the truth just a little - really, I only had like four enemies, but they were obscenely powerful enough to count as a score of regular foes. "Maybe when you're older-"

"Cripes, Sarah!" Toby shouted, plunging his knife into the stone wall we sat on. The blade sank cleanly through two inches of stone, and stayed there, pulsing angrily. "I can't _believe _you'd pull that one out on me! You just gave me a _weapon_, for Ludo's sake. Do you not _want_ me around? Is that it?" he demanded. I winced.

"Of course I do, Tobes! You know I missed you! But I don't want you getting hurt. It's not just goblins down there, you know."

"I _know_ that - I've been studying with _Maman_ Delia for years, now. I'm not a dumb _kid_, Sarah!" he argued.

"You're _nine! _Being smart doesn't make you any older, _kid_," I shot back, and crossed my arms. "Reading about things that can demolish you with a flick of the wrist and seeing them face to face are totally different. How can you _really_ expect me to put you in danger like that?"

"So teach me how to take care of myself! I can't _stand_ it up here, Sarah! It's so _dead_," he yelled, and yanked his knife out of the stone it lay lodged in, as though it were no more than a block of foam. "_This_ doesn't belong here, and you gave it to _me_, because _I_ don't belong here either," he said, spearing me with a scorching glare of challenge.

I glared right back at him for a minute, but I could feel my resolve wavering.

I knew what he felt. Hadn't I bemoaned the horrible lack of magic in this place myself? It was no longer a question of how could I take him Underground.

Now, how could I leave him _here_?

I looked away and let one arm dangle, the other tightly wrapped around my torso, torn. If I didn't take him with me, he would simply find his own way down, and he'd be in even more danger by himself. And what if Jareth found him _alone_?

I shuddered, my mind made up.

"Alright, but you have to give me some time," I relented, and eyed him warily. He kept his expression calm and neutral, and spun his little blade around idly.

"How much time?" he asked.

"Enough time for me to teach you how to avoid everyone _else's_ knife," I replied, and walked over to grab my pack. I was unsurprised to see Nok's skinny little fingers zipping it partially closed from the inside as I lifted it. I heard Toby huff and stomp his foot behind me.

"That's not an answer at all," he complained, and I grinned.

"Get used to it, Tobes. No one Underground gives straight answers for anything, unless they're lying," I told him, and cocked my head. "Actually, they usually twist the lies up, too."

He scowled at me. "Armand gives straight answers," he pointed out, and fell in step with me as I started walking. "Most of the time."

"He's also human," I replied. Toby gave me an exasperated look.

"And what are you, a troll?"

"Of course not. I'm a Sarah," I said, and felt Nok poke his head back out.

"That's actually a valid statement. She is sufficiently kooky to warrant her own species," he informed us, and dove back inside, wriggling around and rustling what sounded suspiciously like candy wrappers. It seemed he had discovered the conventional use for Snickers.

"Well if I'm kooky, you're flat-out insane," I retorted, and jabbed an elbow at my pack. Nok squeaked and retaliated by shooting a foot out and clocking me in the base of my skull, knocking my head forward with surprising velocity.

Toby snorted as I squawked and stumbled.

"And I'm supposed to trust _you_ to teach me how to defend myself?"

I scowled as Nok laughed derisively in my bag.

* * *

**AN:** *Peeks from behind fingers* Wait! Hold the tomatoes! There's more, I swear! Chapter three was supposed to be all, I know, but Jareth had to go and take up an _entire_ chapter by himself, and then Toby followed in his footsteps and took nearly an entire chapter to _himself_, and I was forced to break them up. But look! Down there, at the next chapter button! See? It's all right… :) And feel free to review for both chapters. I won't mind a bit. :D

**ALSO**: FFN was spazzing on me while I was posting these two chapters, and was refusing to send me a carbon copy alert - which made me doubt it was alerting anyone else, either. If I spammed anybody's inbox with my efforts to correct this, I apologize most sincerely.

**High Elf Queen:** Bhahaha, The Ebil Author of Procrastination strikes again! You _still_ do not know if Jareth loves her! *insert maniac laughter here* _Ahem_, seriously, though, all shall be revealed in Part Two. :)

**MyraValhallah:** Oh! _Phew_. That is a relief. Not only would I have lost a wonderful, faithful reviewer, but I have heard that lynching is a distinctly unpleasant experience and should be avoided at all costs.

**Chilalisnowbird:** *Is stricken* Oh, good lord. What was I _thinking? _*Scampers off to re-establish Jareth's position on back*

**Mommys-Little-Nightmare:** Thank you. :)

**S.R Devaste:** Ah-hah, one chapter. Heh. *Insert uneasy grin*

**Turtlerad17:** Thank you, darling! I did try hard to keep her in character. It's nice to hear it paid off! :)

**Aysuh:** Haha, much appreciated, darling. snarky!Sarah is oodles of fun to write.

**TrashedXandXScattered:** :D Glad you enjoyed, darling! *Wink*

**Shinku:** Automatic Response 215: Author is too busy making a fool of herself, dancing to 'Disco Inferno', to reply in her customary witty fashion. Please try back later.

**Camcalli:** Alas, true love is blind, is it not? However, I think that whoever wrote that proverb deliberately left out that love can also be irritatingly naïve, and fantastically sappy sometimes. Really, it's a bit of a partial proverb…

**Scipio'sGirl:** Thank you, darling, hope you enjoyed!


	4. Halloween, 1994 Part Two

**Jareth:** *pats Bon-bon's hand soothingly* Really, darling, this is the third peanutbutter overdose this month. I think it's time to get some help.

**Moi:** *Weakly, through a mouthful of peanutbutter* Hhlp? Hhlp wiff whaf? Ah haff noh frobem... Ah ohwn Lah-briff, ah haff peenufbuvver, an Gerarrr Bufler if mah chaufferrr. Liffe if _booiffuul!_

_Translation: No, thank you, kind sir, but I don't require any assistance. I am perfectly happy just as I am. After all, being the owner of Labyrinth, in possession of an ample supply of peanutbutter, and with Gerard Butler as my personal chauffer, what could I possibly have to be unhappy about?_

**Jareth: ***Sighs heavily* That's right darling, you just rest.

We are now accepting donations for the "Imagination Coner and Peanutbutter Awareness Fund". Please contact your local Labyrinth distributor for further information.

**

* * *

Halloween, 1994 - Part Two**

_Oh, _how I had missed coffee.

I wrapped my fingers around the cheap, kitten-printed mug, sighing with contentment as heat bled through the ceramic and seared the sensitive flesh on the inside of my fingers, and inhaled the aromatic steam of ten-dollar black coffee. Technically, the coffee came complementary with the room, but the coffee _maker _had to be rented.

I'd gladly given into the scam and rented the stupid coffee maker.

Taking a sip, I grimaced as what taste buds survived the scalding liquid were treated to the acerbic, tar-like taste of my long-coveted beverage, and promptly took another swig.

It was a human thing.

As were the ultra-comfy sweats I had changed into. Underground attire, while undeniably stylish in a medieval way, was nowhere near as comfortable as a set of utterly _un_-stylish jim-jams.

I had managed to stay in my Halloween costume until Nok and Toby had ventured off again to continue trick-or-treating, but no sooner had the door closed, than I ran to the 'bedroom' of the cheap little motel suite I'd rented, and threw on the most unattractive jammies I could find. Then I'd piled my hair on top of my head in an equally unbecoming fashion, and flipped on the T.V. to unabashedly wallow in my humanity as I brewed my caffeinated tarmac.

It was enough to keep the home-sickness at bay.

Which really was altogether pathetic in itself.

Honestly, I'd spent nearly twice as long Aboveground as I had Under, and I was dying to get out of here after less than twenty-four hours. How the heck was I going to survive the next eight weeks or so?

I stoically drank another gulp of foul-tasting, searing coffee and turned to plop in front of my television, determined not to be a pitiable female, bemoaning her unfair, though self-inflicted, fate.

I sighed.

This sucked.

It took nearly half an hour for my coffee to cool down to less-than-molten temperatures, and by then I was pretty well fed up with it - so I went in the kitchen and poured myself another cup. And I was going to _enjoy_ it, dammit - _and_ my stupid, shapeless pajamas.

As I stirred a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into the drink, hoping to somehow make it a little more tolerable, I sensed more than heard someone behind me and held up the coffee-stained spoon without turning around.

"Don't you dare say it, or I'll shove this spoon so far up your nose you'll smell nothing but crappy coffee for the rest of your life," I threatened. I just _knew_ Nok was going to make some snide comment about how much I must have _missed _being up here…

"_Sarah,_" hissed a distinctly not-Nok voice, and I froze.

Kitten had found me.

Any second now, he was going to go about extracting a very unpleasant revenge involving all sorts of demeaning, irritating nicknames and insinuations about my non-existent relationship with the Goblin King, and it was going to be absolutely unbearable. I held my spoon at the ready, mentally counting the iron rings on my fingers as I spun around -

And found myself facing a very irritated Jareth.

I felt my stomach twist and my legs tremble in a vaguely gelatinous manner, a shiver running down my spine. Good lord, I'd forgotten what that man did to my knees.

He looked much the same as I remembered, though subtle differences caught my attention. His eyes were still uncannily bright, but hooded in a sensual manner I'd managed to overlook before; his frame still held that slender, leonine strength, but the thinly-veiled promise of danger looked more like self-confidence now; and his pants -

No, actually, his pants were still the same.

I managed not to blush as I tore my eyes away from his shamelessly showcased assets, and noted with detachment that I was apparently too stunned to be afraid quite yet.

I silently clarified to myself that I was shell-shocked by his appearance, not his pants.

"Jareth," I answered, and felt a dim flicker of self-satisfaction at the unflappable calmness of my tone, despite my being off-balance - all of my time dealing with the fae had definitely paid off. "How nice of you to drop by."

He sneered at me. "So, you _are_ aware of the existence of manners," he said sharply, and I blinked. Not the response I was expecting.

"What?"

His sneer turned into a bonafide _glower_. "Eight years, Sarah. Eight _years_, and not _one_ visit, not a _single_ message, not a bloody _nod_ in my direction! Do you have any idea how unspeakably _rude_ that was!" he demanded, seething. The numbness of shock was wearing off, but instead of the bladder-releasing terror I'd been anticipating, a slow, hot fury slid up my veins.

"How the heck was I supposed to know you _wanted_ me to visit?" I snapped, clenching my burning-hot mug in a painful, white-knuckled grip. "It wasn't exactly like you sent me an invitation, you know!"

Jareth scoffed at me. "Of course I wanted you to come to me! Why do you think I allowed you into the Labyrinth to begin with? What more did you need, a heralded messenger?"

I nearly opened my mouth to throw a sharp retort back at him, but paused as a sudden suspicion struck me. _Come_ to me? _Allowed_ you in?

I narrowed my eyes at him.

"You _did_ block me from leaving," I accused, and the righteous outrage on the Goblin King's face faltered. It was the all confession I needed.

"Why you _miserable_, _conniving_ old _toad!_ How _dare_ you!" I snarled, very narrowly refraining from hurling my coffee mug at him. When I had first followed Hoggle through my mirror, years ago, I had suspected the maligned King of spitefully preventing my return home. Carefully ignoring the little voice in the back of my head that pointed out I had been all too happy to stay Underground anyways, I fed my newly acquired proof to my raging fury.

"You were in _my_ Kingdom. I had every right," he said defensively, and his eyes flicked to my torso, as though making certain my center of balance wasn't poised for an attack. I felt a little flutter of pride under my anger, that I had enough of a reputation Underground to make even the mighty _Jareth_ wary.

_Buddy, you ain't seen __**nothing, **__yet, _I thought with savage vindictiveness.

* * *

Sarah was mad.

Quite furious, actually.

Jareth carefully kept a wall to his back and his footing clear, lest she make good on the violence threatening to tear loose of her precarious restraint.

This was not going as he expected. He wondered if perhaps he should have just sent her a snarky letter, instead.

Oh, of course, he had the advantage of magic over her, but from the rumors he'd heard, the rings glinting off her fingers and that chain round her throat (which looked quite sufficiently lengthy to serve as a modified flail, should she need an extended reach) were cast of iron, and he had no desire to confirm them. His feisty little princess would only need to land a single blow to potentially incapacitate him.

Also, he suspected the kitten-clad mug she held, as well as the steaming liquid it contained, would do significant damage if hurled at his head with malicious intent.

He watched as the gears turned in that clever little mind of hers, rolling over his slip of the tongue. Had he _honestly_ expected her to cower and apologize? The blow to his pride had clearly clouded his judgment.

"You _let_ me back in, and then _trapped_ me there, expecting me to panic and come beg you for _help_," she said finally, and he grimaced inwardly. She was far too shrewd, sometimes.

"You obviously have a discouragingly low opinion of me, precious," he said in a mocking tone, and felt quite certain it did not betray his lie - because, in fact, that had been _precisely_ what he'd done. After that wholly uncalled-for rejection she'd cast him, who could blame him for wanting a little revenge? Honestly, it would have been harmless had she just used her head and _come_ to him, rather than gallivanting all over the Underground for eight years, flaunting her existence to everyone and turning his little debacle into a widely-known anecdote. Really, what right did _she_ have to be outraged, anyways? Clearly, she'd enjoyed herself _immensely _in her new home.

"An obviously _accurate_ low opinion, _Your_ _Highness_," she retorted, and he quite nearly winced. When had she become so proficient at detecting falsities? She certainly hadn't been _nearly_ so good when she'd run his Labyrinth.

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't been so quite _boorish _in your rebuff of my proposal, I may not have felt so uncharitable," he countered, and tensed as she shifted slightly, though it appeared that she had simply rocked back, rather than preparing to spring at him.

"Me? _Boorish? _Who was the one who _demanded_ I give up everything, _including sacrificing my brother_, to spend the rest of my life totally _whipped_?" she shouted, her expression incredulous. Jareth felt his ire rising again, overriding his caution.

"Your _brother_ was never part of the offer, _precious,_" he growled, glaring. How could she alternately be so insightful and so _dim?_ "You had won - your precious Toby was already Aboveground again. And, if you remember correctly, it was _I _who offered to be _your_ slave," he said, perhaps just a little louder than necessary.

Her eyes widened even more, mildly surprising Jareth. He hadn't realized human eyes could reach that circumference.

"And you expected me to _believe_ that?" she spat, waving her free hand about dramatically.

Jareth growled at her, crossing his arms angrily. "And why should you not have?" he demanded.

* * *

I gaped at him. Was he serious?

I gave a shriek of frustration, which was answered by my neighbor quite politely pounding on the wall and requesting that I quiet down a bit, please.

"Oi! Stuff a sock in it, willya?"

I snarled and hurled the television remote at the wall, which it slammed into with a satisfying _thud_.

"Shut up, jackass, or I'll shove something _somewhere_," I shouted back, and turned back to Jareth. He looked quite close to hurling something at the wall as well.

"Why didn't I believe your dumb proposal? Because you didn't _love_ me, Jareth," I answered heatedly. Something in his expression broke, and I could see whatever was holding his composure erect crumpling.

"Love? LOVE?" he roared, and I blinked in surprise - not only because he was all of a sudden in the middle of a breakdown, but because I quite abruptly realized that even though he was fairly pissed, and obviously at me, I wasn't frightened.

_Huh. Go figure. _Guess I had a backbone after all.

"You humans and your stupid ideas about _love!_" he snarled, and started pacing in my tiny kitchen, his long legs eating up the space in but a few strides. "You wouldn't know love if it ripped your heart out of your chest, threw it on the ground, danced on it in pretty white heels, and spit on it while reciting _lines_!" he growled, and I practically dropped my coffee cup. I stared at him for a moment, my mouth working soundlessly as humiliation, guilt, and fury warred for control of my vocal cords.

"You can't do that!" I snapped finally, slamming my mug down on the counter before my fingers stopped working. How _dare_ he make me feel guilty? "You hadn't exactly been straightforward, you know! The whole time, it had been nothing but tricks and taunts and traps, and then _all of a sudden_, 'Oh, you didn't know I did it all to make you happy? What do you mean, holding your brother hostage, making you traipse through a _humungous_ maze-"

"_Labyrinth,"_ he hissed.

" - _MAZE_, because it has a destination, dummy -" I retorted, and picked back up like he hadn't said anything. "-'And throwing a _snake_ at you isn't romantic?' You were a shining example of excellence for mixed signals!" I ranted, and very narrowly curbed the desire to stomp my foot. "That's not fair!"

Jareth's mouth twisted with distaste. "You know, I _really_ dislike that phrase," he informed me. I rolled my eyes.

"Oh, how inconsiderate of me, Your Majesty," I said sarcastically. "However may I make amends?"

He smirked, and I had a brief moment to wonder if perhaps that had been an unwise choice of words before Jareth closed the distance between us, and had my chin quite firmly in his grasp.

"Careful, precious thing. Were I less generous, you may have just _enslaved_ yourself," he murmured in a low, dangerous voice. I scoffed.

"Generous, my ass," I said defiantly, despite the way his grip slurred my words. "You set the _cleaners_ on me because I didn't fawn over you. That's hardly _generous_," I objected.

He grimaced. "In retrospect, it is possible that I may have reacted strongly, but you were being quite aggravating," he said defensively.

I glared. Was that supposed to pass as an _apology?_

I let myself go limp momentarily, forcing him to alter his balance to keep his firm hold on my chin, and then threw my weight forward before his equilibrium had time to adjust. Jareth's eyes briefly widened in surprise, and I took advantage of his bewilderment by slipping a leg between his and wrapping it around the back of his knee, sabotaging whatever stability he still held, and toppled the both of us to the floor.

We landed heavily, me on top, and I fluidly swarmed up him, keeping one leg tangled in his and settling my other knee securely across his stomach, with one forearm across his throat, pinning his head to the linoleum.

He looked up at me in utter shock, and I grinned down at him, wiggling my iron-clad fingers directly in his line of vision.

* * *

By the time he'd realized what his lovely, clever, _infuriating_ Sarah was doing, Jareth's footing had been swept neatly out from under him and he was half-way to the floor, and suddenly he remembered why he'd been keeping a respectable amount of distance between the two to them.

Inhuman strength and agility didn't count for much when using them would get you a face full of iron - and judging from what she'd done to his arrogant, irritating cousin at that Halloween ball several years ago, she was more than willing to oblige.

He should have stuck with a letter.

"If you're in an apologetic mood, perhaps you should try saying sorry for slapping a slave collar on my friend," she said with mock pleasantness, her tone made of diamond and steel.

Jareth blinked.

"Armand?" he inquired. Why the devil would she be upset about him?

"Do you have so many slaves that you need to ask? Wow, I'm feeling _really_ smart for turning you down, now," she said coolly. Jareth narrowed his eyes.

"You truly have no idea what you are talking about, Sarah," he said stiffly. She bared her teeth at him in a sharp grin.

"Then please, enlighten me," she prompted, pressing just a tad harder on her knee. Air rushed from Jareth's lungs, and he tried very hard not to growl and send her flying across the room, iron rings or no. _Patience, old boy._

"Armand is a wished-away. Do you know what typically becomes of the wished-away, precious thing?" he asked evenly, trying to seem as though being quite intimately pinned to a cheap linoleum floor was hardly a noteworthy occurrence.

Sarah's eyes narrowed. "You turn them into goblins," she snarled. Jareth made a gesture of acquiescence with his partially-free hand.

"Generally, yes. However, our dear Armand was already fully-grown, and therefore less prone to goblin-esque tendencies, so I offered him a compromise: he would provide me with information, and I would allow him to remain human," he explained, and cast a glance at Sarah's arm, where it pressed firmly along his throat. "I assume that you have realized his collar is iron, and therefore I cannot touch it - he insisted on the collar himself, to avoid situations with other fae. Really, the damned collar is more symbolic than anything," he said with a touch of annoyance. Being iron, Armand had been required to forge the metal band himself, and it was rather clumsy - thus reflecting badly on Jareth, for allowing such a crude collar to be used. Had he a choice, he would most certainly have provided the Creole with a stylish silver circlet, or at the very least, something more comfortable than his rough band.

However, being an old acquaintance of Sarah's, he was, of course, stubborn beyond all reason.

"Armand is hardly my _slave_, precious; he is my retainer, bound to me out of mutual respect and usefulness. I would more readily consider him a friend than an employed hand," he added.

Sarah blinked, obviously thrown off-balance by his answer, and relaxed her pressure on his neck, leaning up a little. Jareth tried not to look smug.

"What sort of information does he give you?" she asked, and he was pleased to hear nothing but curiosity in her tone - all hints of accusation had vanished.

"Political standings and shifts, mostly. As well as pertinent gossip, the condition of affairs in neighboring kingdoms, and whatever information he may have about you," he replied easily, a small smirk lurking in the corner of his mouth.

Sarah blinked again, and her jaw slackened slightly.

"He's been feeding you information on _me?"_ she demanded, apparently unsure whether to be scandalized, terrified, or flattered -

But completely unfocused on restraining him.

With a quick flexing of muscles, Jareth easily rolled the two of them in her distraction, reversing their positions and neutralizing the threat of Sarah's rings.

Sarah hissed in fury.

"Why, _you_ -"

"Ah, ah, precious, turnabout is fair play," he chided, and casually rested his hips against hers, leaning his face far closer than she had previously. "It's my turn, now."

* * *

_Dammit, Sarah. That was dumb. Dumb, dumb, dumb._

I berated myself as Jareth hovered - though, hovering implied a gap between us; really, he was _sprawled _- atop me, pinning my hands above my head with obnoxiously negligent ease, gloating in his control.

I glared at him. Really angrily.

"Now, now, Princess, smooth your hackles. It's only _fair_ that I get a few questions," he reasoned, grinning. "And _I'm_ not threatening you with poison, I might add."

I resisted the urge to spit in his face and/or try to knee him in the crotch.

"What could you possibly want to know? Surely your _friend_ has already told you everything you'd want to know about me," I ground out through clenched teeth. Armand and I were going to have _words_ when we met again.

"I would like to know why exactly you felt it necessary to so meticulously avoid me for the last eight years," he replied, ignoring my barb. "And I answered you fully and honestly, therefore it would be in good form for you to return the favor."

I glowered at him for a moment more, just for good measure, before turning my head to a more comfortable angle and relaxing slightly, conceding to his game of twenty questions.

That was a mistake.

As soon as I released the tension from my muscles, I instantly became aware of just how sinuously Jareth was pressed against me, and _where_ he was pressed, and just how _large_ the pressing matter was.

My face lit up like a candle flame, and little sunspots of rather insistent _need _erupted where we touched. Which was practically everywhere.

I glanced at Jareth, and was quite certain he felt it too - his mismatched eyes were dilated and huge, and he was eyeing the exposed skin of my neck and jaw like I was a particularly delicious-looking treat. His nostrils flared, and I had the frantic thought that he could _smell _my reaction to him -

I quickly whipped my head back around. "Well, obviously, I expected you to destroy me on sight, or at the very least do something extremely unpleasant," I said, and regretted facing him again; now his hungry eyes had turned to my lips, watching them form my words with unsettling intensity.

I shivered and licked them instinctively, and his eyes flashed with something dark and raw.

The pressing matter was _really_ pressing, now.

Deliberately clearing my throat, I flexed my fingers in an attempt to alter this current train of thought, and felt his own hands tighten minimally in reaction.

"What else did you want?" I said - and blushed harder as he favored me with a knowing grin. "To know! What else did you want _to know_?"

"Why the devil you would think I'd wish to harm you," he murmured, his voice low and gravelly, as he bent his head to my neck. His hot breath ghosted along my skin as he explored without touching, raising goosebumps and eliciting another shiver. Belatedly, I realized I had tilted my chin again to allow him access, and found I couldn't remember why that was a bad thing.

"I kind of filleted you," I muttered distractedly, noting with vague dismay how breathless I sounded. "I expected you to be a little miffed about it."

He chuckled, and the sound rumbled though his chest and into mine, raising another round of goosebumps - and other things - from the sensitive skin there. I arched up into the sensation, sliding my leg slowly along the inside of his thighs, and humming with satisfaction as he growled quietly.

"I wished your return, my precious thing, not revenge," he murmured, and I swear I felt it as he grinned. "Well, not entirely," he corrected. His tongue darted out to taste my pulse point, and I groaned quietly, rolling my hips against him. He stiffened, _everywhere_, and made a masculine sound of pleasure that buzzed against my ear.

A grin settled on my own mouth, and I hooked the leg I'd slipped between his thighs around his knee again, simultaneously pushing my shoulders against his and flipping our positions back to their original state.

" 'Not entirely' is not the same thing as 'no', Jareth," I told him, and was rather disappointed that my voice was still breathy.

I was also disappointed that Jareth seemed in no way adverse to our current arrangement. Granted, I was practically straddling his waist this time around, and had my palms flat against his gloved ones in restraint rather than an arm across his windpipe, but really, he seemed to be reading a little too much into it. It was just out of convenience.

Honestly.

"Come now, Princess, you can't tell me the idea of revenge isn't," he paused, a melt-worthy grin on his smug face, and thrust his hips up against mine - "_Pleasurable, _now and again_._"

I narrowly avoided gasping. And/or moaning.

Glaring, I hurriedly released his hands, fully intending to get myself out of this ridiculously compromising situation, but my escape was foiled as he threaded his fingers through mine securely.

I had a moment to realize that this was probably a bad thing.

He stretched his arms above his head, drawing mine with him, and pulling me nearly parallel to his chest. My legs extended slightly as I scrabbled for balance, and he immediately took the opportunity to capture my ankles under his thighs.

I let out an exasperated breath. Was it really fair of him to be restraining _me_ when _he_ was the one on the bottom?

"Ah, Princess. I'm not _nearly_ done with you yet," he said, smiling. I growled, jerking uselessly at my hands - iron vices were more easily escaped - and accidentally jarred loose my necklace, whose heavy pendant tumbled from the neckline of my shirt and swung downward. The tip of it lightly skimmed the skin exposed by Jareth's open-necked poet shirt, and he hissed in discomfort as an angry red welt rose up in its wake. I flung myself upright, and this time Jareth allowed me that much, though I noticed he kept his legs firmly overtop of my ankles.

It was really a good thing I was limber, or that would have been an exquisitely uncomfortable position.

Clamping my lips together before I could apologize - it was his own fault, there was no reason for me to say sorry -, I clapped a hand over my necklace to stop its swinging, as Jareth's gloved fingers seized the pendant almost simultaneously.

He wordlessly studied its design, echoed in gold around his own neck, for a moment, before cocking a winged eyebrow at me inquisitively. I struggled to beat down a blush.

"Armand gave it to me," I tattled, not feeling the least bit guilty. The rotten bastard had sold me out to Jareth, and I had no qualms about returning the favor.

Jareth arched both eyebrows for a moment, and then let out a mildly sardonic laugh.

"Of course he did, the bloody schemer. He's been working on me for nearly a decade; I should have known he'd be doing the same to you," he chuckled wryly. I blinked at him.

"Er, what?"

Jareth tapped my pendant. "He was attempting to tell you, my precious thing, that you are much like this trinket - my equal and opposite; my bane and my balance. Unfortunately, he's far too subtle to be an efficient matchmaker, as it took him the better of ten years to even get us in the same room," he said with mild amusement.

I blinked again.

"Why, that conniving little _rat_," I growled, narrowing my eyes as I suddenly remembered every conversation where he tried to tell me 'Jareth's not so bad'. I clenched my fists. "How _dare_ he try to manipulate me!"

Jareth smirked, taking my hands again and gently prying them loose. "Now, precious, he had good intentions," he said soothingly. I glared mildly at him.

"Don't take his side," I protested. He smiled smoothly.

"Of course not, darling, I'm simply pointing out that he had your best interests in mind," he answered. I glared harder.

"And don't coddle me."

Jareth laughed. "I wouldn't dream of it, precious thing. You'd castrate me."

I nodded sharply in satisfaction. "Good. We understand each other, then."

Jareth's eyes glittered, and he grasped my unclenched hands in his again, pulling me down toward him. "Now that we have that out of the way, I believe we were in the middle of something," he said, grinning. I felt my heartbeat stutter - _oh, for Hoggle's sake, what are you, fifteen? -_ and I tensed instantly, halting my descent.

"Wait, my necklace -" I said, grasping for an excuse as I glanced down at it - and realized, _oh good lord,_ I was still wearing those stupid pajamas -

Jareth grinned in a fervor-inducing manner, and lifted the obstacle in question with one nimble-fingered, glove-protected hand, while the other snaked beneath my sweatshirt and began tracing the line of my hip. I shivered.

This was heaven. And I was ready to admit it.

It wasn't that I was having a lust-induced epiphany, or anything quite so trite, so much as I was finally allowing the knowledge that I'd kept mercilessly downtrodden the past eight years to surface.

I wanted Jareth. Badly.

Not that I was in _love_ with him, or anything… That would just be ridiculous. After all, I hadn't even spoken to him in eight years. But… he was precisely what I had realized I wanted - dark, dangerous, mischievous, playful, and fair.

Yes, fair.

It took a few years for the bite to wear off, but I knew, full well - that, as I _had_ wished my brother away, the Goblin King had every right to come and collect him, and _had_ been generous to allow my trial. It just made it easier to pretend I hated him if I ignored the truth - and I had believed it necessary. Truly, I had expected Jareth to be quite irritated with me over the whole affair.

Never in a million years did I expect Jareth to be amicably, and by all indications, in _extremely_ good health, lying under me.

Absently removing the rings from my fingers and leaning down, I slid my hands into his hair - how many blondes had I done the same to, wondering if their hair felt like Jareth's? - and lightly scored my nails along his scalp.

A purr - a real, honest-to-feline _purr_ - rumbled in Jareth's throat. I laughed softly, pressing my lips to his throat and smiling as the vibrations buzzed through the contact.

The bare skin of Jareth's other hand - _good god, he was practically on fire - _wound underneath my shirt, and both of his suddenly-bare hands skimmed up my ribs, tickling lightly as he ran his thumbs along the undersides of my breasts - I groaned again, nipping the side of his neck -

"Oh, yuck! Good grief, you didn't tell me they were gonna be _doing it!_" Toby yelled, and suddenly my disgusted kid brother and a very guilty-looking Nok were standing in the living room.

Apparently, Toby had wasted no time in testing the stealth capabilities of his new knife.

"I didn't think it was possible! They haven't even _seen_ each other in nearly nine years - I rather thought _some_ sort of re-acquainting time would be necessary," Nok said defensively, casting me an accusatory glare.

I blushed about seven shades of red and scrambled off of Jareth as though he'd suddenly sprouted tentacles.

"Toby, what are you _doing_ here -" I demanded, cutting off abruptly as I spotted a familiar, golden-skinned face poking out from behind the sofa.

"_Armand?"_

The Creole in question waved amiably at me.

I snarled.

"Oh, you are going _down_, you rotten sack of _kishmer_," I said, and launched myself at him while hissing obscenities in several languages, predominately Troll.

Armand managed a frightened _eep_, before diving toward the door in an attempt to escape my wrath. It was a futile effort.

My fingers closed tightly around his ankle, and I tugged, _hard_, sending him crashing to the floor with a distinct '_oof'_. I scrambled up him and easily slipped him into a chokehold, perhaps holding on just a bit tighter than absolutely necessary.

"_Cheri,_ wait, I can explain-"

"Don't you _Cheri_ me, you little spy! How long have you been feeding him info on me? Huh? What have you told him? I swear, if I find out you told him about Midsummer -"

Jareth perked up, his tousled blonde head peeking around the obstructing sofa.

"Midsummer? What's this?" he peered at Armand, arching an eyebrow imperiously.

I relaxed a tad. "Alright, you can slide on that one," I told Armand quietly, and glared at Jareth.

"This is not a conversation you want to be involved in," I informed him sternly. He cocked an eyebrow, glanced appraisingly at the quite thoroughly restrained Armand, and nodded sagely.

"There seems to be a goblin here who requires my singular, undivided attention," he replied, and slowly withdrew, as one might retreat from a dangerous predator. I tried not to be too flattered.

Reluctantly, I released my chokehold on Armand and allowed him to right himself. He nodded his thanks to me, and promptly set about trying to scoot his way as far into the sofa, and as far away from me, as humanly possible.

"Well?" I asked after a moment. "What do you have to say for yourself?" I said crossly, my arms folded across my chest.

"The two of you are extremely slow on the uptake."

I glared and growled in warning, to which Armand ducked his head apologetically and placatingly held up his hands.

"Easy, _Cheri_, I was kidding," he said, and smiled softly.

"You know me, _Cheri._ You know I would do anything in my power to see you happy," he told me, and shrugged. "I knew that he would make you happy," he said simply, jerking his head in Jareth's direction. I cocked an incredulous eyebrow.

He grinned. "Irritated, crazy sometimes, but happy," he clarified.

I eyed him for a moment, and then leaned around the sofa, surreptitiously peeking at Jareth.

He was draped regally over one of the tiny, wooden, kitchen chairs, imperiously regarding Nok, who was stumbling over an explanation as to why he had actively helped me avoid his liege for the past near-decade. I smiled to myself as I saw the tiny smirk hiding in the corner of his mouth, and was able to suppress a blush as he briefly glanced at me and winked.

Something in my chest, which I refused to acknowledge as my heart because I was far too mature and jaded for it to be doing such girly things, bloomed warmly, spreading up to my cheeks before settling contentedly in my tummy.

I withdrew, and deliberately did not look at Armand.

"Well, since he didn't try to enslave or outright kill me, I guess no real harm was done. In time, I could probably forgive you," I told him graciously.

He wisely said nothing and nodded appreciatively.

I glanced at him, grateful.

"Things settled, darling?" Jareth said, somehow managing to gracefully perch himself on the back of the sofa, and smiled affectionately at me, as though he'd known me for years. Which, really, I guess he had.

"More or less," I agreed.

"Good. Best be off, then," he said, and lightly stepped over the edge, holding a hand out to help me up. I took it, and regarded him suspiciously.

"Be off _where_, precisely?"

He looked at me blankly. "Well, home, of course."

I blinked. "Home?"

Jareth smiled tolerantly at me and lightly grasped my chin. "Underground, precious thing. To the Labyrinth. You've been away far too long."

I would have objected, if I hadn't been hoping to hear that very answer. Finally, I'd to get to roam the Labyrinth again! And this time, it wouldn't be _me _running for my life in the Firey Forest.

"_Ahem,"_ Toby coughed irritably, and I threw him an apologetic grin.

"Well, of course you'll be coming too, Toby, if only for a brief while. I daresay Sarah would have my head if I denied you your Aboveground education," Jareth said. "After all," he threw a wry glance at me, "_someone_ has to teach you proper etiquette - and if we left it up to your lovely, albeit utterly uncouth, sister, I'm certain you'd offend the entire High Court by the end of the year."

I glared. "Hey!"

Armand coughed discreetly. "Actually, Sarah, you could stand a few courses in diplomacy."

Nok nodded. "You're pretty spectacularly rude. I'm sure without me you'd already be dead."

I snarled at the little goblin. "Oh, right, because your routine flight in the face of danger is so helpful to me."

He shrugged. "Consider me an advance warning system."

Toby sighed. "Can we _go?_ Not everyone here has been able to escape Aboveground life, you know," he said impatiently. I chuckled at him.

Jareth turned to me, and held out his hand with an inviting smile.

I smiled back, and took his offered hand.

"Alright, home it is," I agreed.

_It's only forever,_

_That's not long at all…_

_**Fin**_

_**

* * *

**_

**AN:** That's right, darlings! We have reached the end of this little story. :D I hope you had as much fun as I did! A great big squeezy hug to my spendifaberous Betas (who both probably just cringed at my use of a non-existent word) Lov2Catnap and TrashedXandXScattered - Thank you, darlings! - and to all of my reviewers!

*Squints off into the distance* What is that I see on the horizon? ... an epilogue?...

Reviews are always appreciated, especially now! :)


	5. Halloween, 2001 Epilogue

**Epilogue - Halloween, 2001**

"And then Daddy let Mommy tackle him, even though she was wearing quite an unnecessarily large amount of iron, because he knew it would make her realize that really, she _did_ love him," The Goblin King said. The small bundle of pink and yellow cloth in his arms gurgled happily.

A lanky, imp-eyed, blonde youth slid from the shadows beside the Goblin King's throne and snorted derisively.

"Better not let Sarah hear you say that. She'd decapitate you if she found out you were fibbing to her offspring," he said, flipping a peculiarly luminous knife with careless, arrogant ease.

Jareth eyed him imperiously.

"I am not _fibbing_, Tobias, and I take offense to your implication," he said haughtily, and looked down at the little princess in his arms. "All the same, we'd better keep this between you and me. Mommy can be a bit irrational sometimes," he suggested.

"Thought so," Toby said under his breath, and smirked as Jareth tossed a glower at him. "Really, though, it would be pretty amusing if Sarah found out. There'd be lots of fireworks. Probably literally, I'd wager - she's dealing with the Fire Sprites, again, and you know how they get when she brings them gunpowder…" he said thoughtfully, and Jareth narrowed his eyes.

"I see. I wonder what one in your position might find more amusing than watching your brother-in-law being subjected to your sister's wrath," he said carefully. Toby grinned in an altogether unwholesome manner.

"I want to be your Champion during the next Troll Negotiations Session," he said instantly. Jareth scoffed.

"Sarah would slaughter me if she found out I agreed to that. It's far too dangerous. Besides, my Queen is traditionally my Champion, should I require one. And don't bother telling me you've found out about a planned assassination attempt - more or less the entire reason for Troll Negotiation Sessions is for them to attempt to assassinate me, and for me to thwart them."

"You're going to be in trouble either way. At least this way, you have longer to figure out a way around it. Besides, I've been practicing - we both know I'm arguably one of the best knives in the Underground," he reasoned. "But yes, I did hear about an assassination attempt. So you could use the extra help - 'cause we both know Sarah will insist on coming too. And Sarah fighting is bound to be an iron-clad disaster."

"The point of offering me an alternative is to make it more palatable than the one I am currently faced with," Jareth huffed.

"No, the point is force you to choose between two unpalatable options, and convince you to accept the one that benefits me the most," Toby said.

Jareth glared at him. "You're not terribly good at this negotiation business."

Toby grinned in a decidedly sharp manner. "Or maybe I'm too good," he countered. Jareth smirked.

"Well, you're picking up on it faster than Sarah, anyways," he said wryly.

"Be that as it may," I said, dropping the veil I'd been holding and stepping down from the wide-ledged window that had been my hiding place, "I'm better at spying than either one of you, and you are both in _so much trouble._"

Jareth gulped, as Toby let out a terrified squeak.

Nok cackled gleefully from somewhere to my right.

I grinned, and Jareth paled visibly, while Toby disappeared altogether. That was fine - I'd deal with him later. "Nok, I think Uncle Hoggle is expecting to see baby Elana, now. Be a dear?" I requested. Nok leapt at the opportunity and quickly took charge of Elana, much to Jareth's dismay, and vanished with a slight _pop_.

I flexed my fingers.

"You know, it's been almost three weeks since I've seen you, Jareth," I said absently. I knew that queens did not typically roam around selling wares, but I liked being a merchant; it was what I did for eight years. So, when my queenly duties were less than pressing, I tended to fall back on the more exciting tasks of haggling and acquiring rare, valuable goods.

Unfortunately, Jareth did not accompany me, so my trips could be a bit lonely sometimes.

Jareth eyed me warily.

"Indeed. I hadn't expected this trip to be quite so lengthy," he said carefully. I sauntered over to him, keeping the dangerous edge to my grin despite the sway of my hips.

"Well, you know. Being so horrid at negotiations, I took a little longer than most to make an acceptable deal," I said carelessly. Jareth winced.

"You know, darling, that was really-"

I sat down on his lap, his throne more than roomy enough for me to comfortably straddle his hips. His eyes widened for a moment, and then he matched up my smile with the familiar hunger I knew was in my eyes, and grinned himself.

"Why, you clever little minx," he said, appreciation in his tone. Toby wouldn't be back for hours, at least, and Baby Elana would distract my friends for quite some time.

And I hadn't seen my husband in three weeks.

I winked at him, and started undoing the laces on his poet shirt, working it loose of his breeches.

"I did learn from the best," I said graciously. Jareth laughed and kissed me, momentarily pulling me to his chest and halting my progress on his shirt.

"All an act, then?"

"Of course not. I'm still gonna kick your ass, later," I replied, and writhed sinuously in his lap. He groaned, though I still saw that flicker of resignation in the back of his eyes. "But that's later."

"_Much_ later," he replied, wrapping his arms around me and instantaneously relocating us to our chambers.

A faint laugh echoed in the Goblin King and Queen's throne room.

* * *

**AN:** Alright, I swear I actually have a valid reason this time - sort of.

Basically, you lot are disturbingly vicious. Honestly, I permanently disfigured Kitten in an extremely unpleasant fashion, at mere mortal Sarah's hands no less, and you _still _wanted his comeuppance?! Good heavens, what were you expecting? Limb removal via termites? Death by lobster claws? Submergence in an acid vat?I was a little bit afraid there might be mutiny if I didn't give Jareth a go at torturing his distant kin, but it just would _not_ fit into the scene...

However, as I was writing the epilogue, I couldn't help but feel like the story wasn't quite done. So in the works, to be released at a later date, is a tentative sequel. I'm not sure how long it will be, as I only have a partial plot for it at the moment, but eventually, after I get the other loose strings floating around my site tied up, I will get cracking on Kitten demise. :)

Thank you to all my lovely reviewers! Your patience with me is truly invaluable.


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